


Larger than Life

by xoPeapup



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Play, Castration, Character Death(s), Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Eunuch!Daryl, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Handporn, Heavy Dominance, M/M, Military Training, Neganworship 2.0, Oral Sex, Service, Sexual Tension, Submission, archer!Daryl, badassfighter!Jesus, bellydancer!Jesus, guys in eyeliner, long story, past sexual slavery, post-apocalyptic emperor!Negan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-01 16:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 125,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13299018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoPeapup/pseuds/xoPeapup
Summary: Born many years after the outbreak, into a newly shaped world, Daryl doesn't question his existence or his servant way of life. But the stories he kept hearing about the enemy, a charismatic, fearless leader, spurred his imagination and at least let him fantasize about a life, very different from everything he knew...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Salam, beautiful people! 
> 
> You thought I went already a little overboard with my Negan worship in AFTERCARE? Oh you've seen nothing yet, sweet puppies... I started this in October 2017, during a really tough time in my life, when I needed something to take me far away from reality, and this is where my mind took me. Please follow me this way, to a world, 81 years after the outbreak:


	2. Prologue

 

"I thought it's theology on Tuesdays." Jesus chewed on a wheat straw, bored to death already, even though the class had just started three minutes ago. "You could've used me as visual aid." Some of the other young men chuckled, and then ducked their heads when the docent put his hands behind his back and slowly walked up to the windows, overlooking the Sanctuary's palatial courtyard.

"I may not be the right lecturer for theology, Paul. In my opinion, God doesn't exist." Old Hershel seemed tired and especially thoughtful today, almost despondent. "If he ever existed, it was in the old world and he abandoned it right with its downfall." He watched the imperial troops getting ready for another battle. Horses being saddled, weapons cleaned, nervous soldiers checking their armor. "The true Gods are the men that walk on this earth today. The great leaders, willing to do whatever it takes, to fight and protect, to sacrifice everything for their people." A tall man emerged between the others on the courtyard, easily distinguished from the rest in his short leather kilt. Everyone wore the typical uniform, all black and tight, red stripes along the outer side of their trouser legs and sleeves, the Savior's red emblem on their back, black helmets and boots. But he, strutting proudly between his troops for a few last words, wore the black leather armor he was known for. Tailored to his form, accentuating every muscle in his body, embellished with small golden details, marking him clearly as the leader he was.  "Those are true Gods. Not some invisible spirit in the sky, but courageous men and women, who bleed real blood, who know their destiny, and fulfill it with glory."

Noah rolled his eyes at Siddiq, Ben snickered. Hershel was a bit melodramatic today.

Only Paul listened attentively, poking the back end of the straw against his lip as he watched his old teacher. He couldn't help but to agree. The only God he had ever known, the only one he would ever follow, was a man made of flesh and blood. A man as real and true as he could possibly be. 

A man larger than life.


	3. Conflicted

 

Daryl sat near the window, watching the cavalry getting ready, while a thin strand of hair on the left side of his head was adorned with dark blue and golden beads, to match his new silk robe. He held still but tried his best to ignore the procedure, hating it even more than the silly blue paint accentuating the color and form of his eyes. He wished he could just once look like the soldiers in the yard. With their uniforms and short hair, some with beard, all with well defined, muscular bodies. He envied them so much. 

"It is a big day for them." Denise smiled softly, braiding new jewelry into silky hair. "I've heard it is the decisive battle for the western territory." She liked gossiping with the servants, and even though she didn't get much feedback from Daryl, she could tell that he was always very interested in her stories. "I can't wait for the big victory celebration, once they are back." Parties held in honor of the Alexandrian army and the Governor, were pretty much the only festivities where the servantry and lower ranking workers were allowed to attend, so she always hoped for a good result. "I bet they will have pork roast and plenty of cake. And music." She smiled, finishing her masterpiece off with a last golden bead.

Daryl didn't say anything and watched one of the generals holding a fervent speech in front of his troops. About a bigger world and how it belonged to them by right. He didn't know if that was true, but he was sure that most of the brave soldiers wouldn't come back to celebrate anything, or just see the next morning. Ever since lieutenant Grimes got in charge as a replacement for fallen Mister Walsh, the list of casualties got longer and longer. And even he, the silly servant, with all these trappings and paint on his face, could see the reason. 

Lieutenant Grimes never had the right strategy, never enough perseverance to go through with a plan until the very end. He made stupid decisions, led by his emotions. His people didn't look up at him, at least not all of them. They fought because they were bribed into military service, as it offered the most privileges and highest salary. But they didn't believe in the Alexandrian ideology or their leader. Not even now did they have enough respect to give their commandant their full attention, and rather fumbled around with their gear. And why would they listen? They had heard it all ad nauseam: Only one person had to die. The gruesome leader of the empire. The ruler of the new world. And lieutenant Grimes would kill him himself. It was a promise. A promise that nobody took serious anymore after almost two years of war and countless missed chances.

"Good luck!" Denise leaned out of the window, waving happily, although they were much too far away and even if somebody had heard her good wishes, nobody would care about anything she had to say. "Hach, they look so imposing, don't you think?" She watched as the troops left through the gates and closed the shutters, putting all her combs and hairbrushes aside. "So much to do! Where are your shoes? You have to go shopping."    

\----

Daryl kicked a pebble stone against the curb. He hated his ugly sandals even more than the soft, fluttery silk gown. Or the group of teenagers giggling and mocking him from the other side of the street. He scowled at his feet, adorned with ankle bracelets and toe rings, and after the third 'Uh look she's so precious' picked up the pebble stone and flung it with full force across the street, missing one of the kid's heads just by half an inch. That didn't make them stop laughing, but at least they hollered 'Careful, she's pissed!' instead of making comments about the color of his 'dress' or the stupid basket Denise had given to him to carry all the stuff from the list.

He turned left, even though the farmer's market was right down the street, and went to the park. It was never very crowded in the late morning and he loved the huge knobby oaks on the south lawn. He loved sitting beneath them, he loved climbing on them and hiding in their branches, and he loved the most that they gave him some privacy to do his secret training, shielded by their thick stems. And it started to pay off, too. At least he thought so. His upper arms and shoulders looked a little bulkier last time he had flexed his muscles in front of the mirror, and Eric had given him funny looks the other day and made a comment about his back.

He flung his basket next to a raspberry bush and went down on the ground, starting on his pushups. He did thirty on both hands, then another twenty on one hand, before he tried them like he had seen the soldiers do it, with a clap in between. It didn't really work, but he felt sweat building on his face and a little bit underneath his arms. It didn't smell like anything but he thought it looked really nice. He wiped his forehead even though it wasn't necessary and felt very good and a little bit stronger as he grabbed his basket and continued his way to the market. 

He bought new curd soap, a new sponge, scented oil and three sewing needles, ignoring that he was stared at even more than usual by the other market goers. There was a small crowd at the newsstand and he went a little closer, feigning interest in the freshly painted lamppost. The Governor wanted everything white now, because it looked more sovereign.

The people flipped through the newest issue of the Alexandrian newspaper, gossiping about the headline. It stated that the great emperor had taken in another county, just like that, without even raising a single weapon. King Ezekiel and his small Kingdom had surrendered peacefully. 

Mister Monroe couldn't believe it, called them weak and dishonorable, a disgrace for the community of insurgents. 

Daryl couldn't deny that he was a little shocked himself. The Kingdom had a pretty badass army, with sword fighters, archers and the best cavalry known. Why wouldn't they at least try to fight? He felt bad for all the people there. He had seen the Kingdom just twice in his life, but he had liked everything about it. It was far better than Alexandria. King Ezekiel was far better than the Governor. He deserved better.

"I bet they put his head on a spike as a warning example for the rest." Nicholas was sure. He had a minor back injury and hence couldn't join his buddies on the battlefield today, just like in the past six months. "Bloodthirsty pigs."

Daryl picked at a tiny chip of paint with his fingernail, grimacing as he overheard all the shocked people. He knew all the rumors about the great emperor. Conflicting rumors. It was said he was ruthless, determined and lethal in battle, pretty much undefeated to this day. The greatest military tactician of the post-apocalyptic history, a brilliant strategist. In less than ten years he had established the largest empire of the new world. He was cruel in his methods and power hungry. It was said that people of the empire held men in chains to work as slaves and women in cages to breed humans like cattle. It was said they were cannibals and ate babies. It was said they were nothing but monsters. 

But rumor also had it that life in the empire was like a dream come true, a whole new form of civilization, where everyone was safe, educated and treated good and equally as long as they lived by the rules. It was said that the emperor was strict but fair to his people. That he was fearless, generous, and extremely charismatic. It was said that he was beautiful, and his people and troops worshiped him, that his men gladly fought for him and would have died for their leader and the greater glory of the new world. It was said that he led his huge army at the very front, that he was leading by example and never hid behind his men, no matter what. Daryl had even heard from one of the Alexandrian soldiers, that the great emperor wore a special uniform, just to make sure that he would stand out and attract attention on the battlefield. 

The Alexandrian soldier had found that very stupid and fatuous. Daryl had secretly admired the emperor's courage and valor. And then he had felt bad for his disloyalty, because a baby-eating-bloodthirsty-psychopathic monster leading his men into battle, was surely nobody to look up to. Especially not when he was the enemy.

He watched his fingernail scratching a bit of white paint off the metal post and then glanced back over his shoulder when the small crowd in front of the newsstand disbanded, because Nicholas offered to buy a beer for everyone at the 'Fire Lake' pub, even though it wasn't even noon yet. Most men thought it was a fantastic idea and followed along, dropping the portentous newspaper on the dirty ground where it belonged. Daryl looked after them and waited a moment before he picked one up. He put it into his basket and left, making his way back to the Governor's women's quarters.   

\----

Denise hadn't been thrilled when Mister Blake's favorite evening entertainment came back from his trip to the farmer's market, sweaty, with smeared make-up, dirty fingernails and a small hole in his new gown, two hours late. But it just wasn't in her nature to make a big deal out of it. She was trained to do all her chores as fast and efficiently as possible. The Governor didn't employ people who wasted time, especially his.  

So she simply started over, ran a bath for Daryl, washed him, cleaned his nails and ears, did his hair, oiled his skin and dressed him in something fresh and new, hopefully to Mister Blake's liking. She even tried to make some small talk to lighten the mood, because Daryl seemed gruff and dismissive, something Mister Blake wouldn't appreciate.

When Milton came in the early evening for his daily inspection, she was done with her work. The women's quarters were neat and tidy, and all of the Governor's bedroom servants were ready for whatever the night would bring. Seven women and three men.

Denise served a cup of English tea to Mister Blake's assistant, but otherwise stayed in the background as he examined the servers, to pick one or two for the night.

"She doesn't wear perfume." He sniffed the curly, red hair of a lady, then tilted a young man's head to the side. "And he doesn't wear any jewelry." He gave a girl with long dark eyelashes a distant once-over and snapped his fingers, gesturing for her to wait at the opposite wall, before he beckoned Daryl closer, to the middle of the room where the light was better. "He is getting too big." Milton pushed the fine fabric of the servant's sleeve up, observing his slightly muscular upper arms. "I told you don't give him physically demanding work to do. Let him do sewing or porcelain painting." Without any hesitation he lifted Daryl's light gown, checking the smooth, hairless skin underneath. "Is he clean?" He fondled the man's shrunken penis and the small, empty patch of skin behind, then reached around to wriggle the silver placeholder embedded in his anus.   

"Yes, he is." Denise adjusted her glasses, a little nervous with the allegation. "And I swear I didn't let him work in the garden anymore since you told me that he-"

Milton raised his hand, not interested in any excuses. "He is bulking up and Mister Blake finds that very unappealing. He will hold you responsible for it, so I can only advise you to follow my suggestions." He went to the sink to wash his hands. "Send them both to his private rooms by 10 PM. And please remember that he wants them gone before sunrise."

"Yes." Denise nodded. "Of course, Mister Mamet." She accompanied him to the exit and closed the door behind him.

Daryl turned around to see his reflection in one of the big wall mirrors, a very faint smile curving the corners of his mouth. He was bulking up.

\----

Sunrise was Daryl's favorite time of the day, ever since he could remember. It was quiet, he was all alone, and nobody would disturb him, because he was supposed to rest and sleep until exactly 10:30 AM. He didn't have to wear his silly silk robe, and his skin and hair smelled neutral, being washed and cleaned thoroughly by Denise. Inside and out, because that was her job when the Governor was done enjoying one of the bedroom servants. She took all his jewelry off, as well as his blue eyeliner and the three beads in his hair. She had always a snack ready and a glass of fresh water, before she told him some cheesy good night wish, a different one each time. He wondered how she came up with them all. But he liked it. 

The moment she closed the door and locked him into his small chamber, he climbed back out of bed and lifted the carpet at one side, to get his hidden newspaper out. He couldn't read very well, because Mister Blake wanted everyone in the women's quarters to concentrate on other things, but that was okay, because he wasn't interested in the text. He wanted to see the pictures. 

He had never seen the great emperor and he assumed he would probably look like all the other leaders he knew. Tired somehow and scarred by huge responsibility, a hard life and war. That's what the leader from the Hilltop looked like, as well as from Oceanside, or King Ezekiel, and of course the people in charge of Alexandria. His Owner especially, with his eye patch and scarred face. 

But when he opened page two of the slightly crinkled paper, he stared at the large photo, straightened his back and then hunched his shoulders as he leaned down for a closer look. 

The man on the picture looked like nobody he had ever met or seen his whole life. He looked superior in any way possible. Tall and slim but athletic. Broad neck and shoulders, twining cords of muscle shaping his entire body, strong arms, bold thighs and calves, a firm chest and abdomen, clad by black leather that looked like molded onto his body, only to leave his arms and most of his legs free and daringly vulnerable. His hair was dark and neatly combed back. His face strong and defined, with high cheek bones and a sharp jaw, accentuated by well groomed, grey facial hair. He looked healthy and almost cocky, not scarred or tired at all, even though he had a very thin scar down his right cheek. It made his features even more striking. His eyes seemed gentle but stared out of the picture with such an intensity, that Daryl felt almost threatened. 

He touched the smooth paper with his fingertips, unable to look away, because the gruesome, baby-eating emperor of the horrible new world had something in common with him. Something he hated so much, and felt ashamed about for years. Silly face paint. 

The man on the picture didn't wear blue eyeliner, but black kohl underneath his eyes, making him look nothing but stunning. He had also thick, black stripes across his cheeks, one on each side of his face, like a badass warrior. 

Daryl couldn't believe it. He had never seen another man with make-up. Only Eric but that didn't count, because Eric loved his red lipstick and would never go anywhere without it. But the ruler of an entire empire wearing paint on his face was just awesome. Maybe he was a eunuch as well? Daryl stared at the man's unusual outfit. The leather uniform didn't include pants, it looked more like a skirt in the groin area. He smiled, tracing the outline of the man's body with one fingertip, from top to bottom. A badass warrior eunuch with beard. 

He got up and searched for the pair of manicure scissors in his drawer, then crouched back down to cut the picture out of the newspaper, very carefully. He shoved the rest of the useless paper underneath his small cabinet and crawled into his bed, staring at the photo. There was a line of text written underneath in very small letters, and a name. **Negan**. He remembered that he had heard it before but never thought there would be a reason to remember it. Until now. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 hours


	4. Mercy

 

The whole city was outside, celebrating the troops as they came back. Seven men had fallen, among them Morgan Jones, but for the first time in two years, lieutenant Grimes had achieved a small success. They had taken down one of the emperor's outposts in the western territory, killed 41 men of the imperial forces in the process and captured all of the enemy's weapons. It was a victory that the demoralized people had desperately needed.

All of Alexandria and their fellow insurgent communities were abuzz with excitement and met in the very same night for a huge victory celebration, hosted by the Governor himself.

A ton of food was prepared and set out on long tables, and pretentious stories about the battle and defeat of the enemy flowed more freely than the wine.

Daryl knew what that meant. A very slender diet for the servants and low ranking workers in the upcoming week, to make up for the splurged feast. And the high amounts of alcohol served were also responsible for a generous sharing policy concerning the Governor's personal bedroom servants. The troops had to be rewarded after all.

"Slow down." The distant command came from Spencer, along with a slap on the cheek. He leaned back on his chair, raising his beer towards one of his buddies, laughing loudly. "Come on, I saved your ass at least twice!"

Daryl didn't look up, just slowed his pace, trying to ignore the unpleasant taste of unwashed genitals. He glanced briefly to the soldier sitting next to Spencer and the blonde girl between his legs. She was busy with the exact same task, her head bobbing up and down dutifully on the man's cock. She didn't seem to mind his unwashed state, or maybe she was just very good at hiding her disgust.

"Hey! Slow down, I said!" Spencer looked down, roughly pulling Daryl's hair when the service still wasn't to his liking. He cursed something snidely to the man on the ground, then took a huge bite of his smoked turkey breast, giving a smug comment about how he had killed two of the imperial soldiers even though they had surrendered. "One had pissed himself, no joke!"      

Mister Blake drank to that. "There's no such thing as a civilized way to make war! There can't be mercy!"

Daryl closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on his task as more than four hundred people chanted 'No mercy!' in unison and ear deafening volume.

He wondered what the baby-eating badass warrior emperor did right now.

\----  

The first day after the battle was a quiet one. The servants and workers were busy to clean up the remains of the victory celebrations, while all the important residents of Alexandria took a well deserved rest. Daryl saw one of the soldiers as he swept the street in front of the Governor's house. He didn't wear uniform, but he had a huge, red scratch on his face. It looked still fresh and Daryl wondered how it had happened. Maybe the eunuch emperor had tried to kill him.

"Daryl!" Denise hurried up the sidewalk, yanking the evil broom out of the servant's hands as if it was a 200 pound barbell. "I told you, no sweeping." She looked around with a nervous smile, wiping her fingers over the man's flawless upper arm trying to smooth the slight muscles down somehow. "Why don't you go inside and join the girls. Eric plays the violin for them."     

Daryl's lips curled in disgust, matching the reproachful look he gave her. He hated violin music and all the girls would want to talk to him and fumble around with his hair.

"Go." Denise gave him an encouraging smile, starting to sweep the street herself. "I'll finish this for you."

Daryl didn't say anything because he never did. He just left and did what he was told. But he sat as close to the back window as possible and tried to tune out the screeching instrument while he watched the cavalry horses in front of the barracks getting groomed.

\----

The second day after the soldiers had come back, started as always. Daryl sat in the bathtub, listening to the newest gossip while Denise washed him. First with curd soap, then with something scented.

"I heard they found it at the outpost. It can't be much older than four months." She tipped Daryl's head back and shielded his eyes as she rinsed his hair with warm, clear water. "Mister Blake hasn't decided yet if it should be killed."

Daryl didn't say anything. He wouldn't know what. But he hoped the Governor wouldn't kill the baby. After all it had been lucky enough to escape the cruel cannibals of the new world, so it wouldn't be very nice to slit its throat now.

"I saw it. It is a beautiful child." Denise smiled and started to brush Daryl's teeth. The Governor wanted all of his bedroom servants clean at all times, inside and out, especially their genitals and mouths. Bad breath was his personal pet peeve.

Daryl closed his eyes, trying to hold still. He wondered if the beautiful child was maybe the baby of the emperor. Because the emperor was beautiful, too. But then again that couldn't be, because eunuchs weren't able to reproduce.

"Well, I am sure Mister Blake will make the best decision for everyone involved." Denise always had full faith in their leader. Her parents had raised her that way. Everyone in Alexandria had their job to do, and hers was to make the Governor's life a little bit nicer. "Listen..." She brushed Daryl's upper teeth softly. "He has company today, so you will serve not only him. Miss Jadis requested your services while she is in town."

Daryl lost his relaxed posture and gagged a little as a blob of minty foam slid to the back of his throat. He didn't like when the Governor had company. And servicing a woman was the worst he could think of, especially Miss Jadis. It scared him even more than alone-time with Mister Blake.

"It will be okay." Denise was familiar with the upset reaction and tried to spread some positive energy. "I bet she has a lot of interesting stories to tell and maybe she made a new sculpture for the Governor. Wouldn't that be great?" She put the toothbrush aside and held a cup of water out. "I am sure you will even eat with her, because she wants to see you so early."   

Daryl sat still and rinsed his mouth, but all he could hear was the soothing tone of his caretaker's voice. He wished it could be sunrise already and she would lock the door behind him.

\----

On the third day after the western outpost battle, the soldiers left Alexandria once more, led by a very confident lieutenant Grimes. The Governor had commanded a further attack on another outpost, much closer to the empire's capital city, as long as the recent victory was fresh in everyone's mind.   

Daryl didn't care much. He was aching and felt kind of ill. And maybe he even looked ill, because in the late afternoon, Mister Mamet picked Eric and the girl with the short black hair instead of him. It worried him in the first second, not sure if he had done something wrong the day before, but then he felt very relieved when he realized that he would be allowed to spend the whole night in his room. The door would be locked, but that wasn't a bad thing. Actually he preferred it that way.

He wasn't perfumed and smelled like pure, clean skin, didn't wear his blue eyeliner or any jewelry, only the silver placeholder in his butt, because Denise was afraid the Governor could change his mind later on and request Daryl's service after all.

He had received his plain white sleeping outfit, simple pants and thin, loose shirt, but he didn't put it on right away. He stood in front of the mirror and studied himself, posing shyly, flexing his biceps and puffed out his chest. He sucked his stomach in and raised his arms. Nothing much happened. Frustrated, he crouched down on his carpet and did ten pushups, then turned over and struggled through twenty sit-ups. He tried the mirror again but couldn't notice any difference, so he got dressed and crawled into bed, wondering how the great eunuch emperor of the new world had gotten so pretty and muscular. Maybe his testicles had been removed after childhood, when he was already an adult. Maybe that was also the reason why he could grow such a nice beard. Maybe he had even a deep, male voice.

Daryl pulled the blanket up higher, closing his eyes. He wished he could be like that, too.

\----

There wasn't enough time to comprehend and react accordingly when at almost three in the morning, on the fourth day after the triumphant battle, the alarm went off, blaring through the streets of Alexandria, loud and shrill. Much too late.

Whole buildings exploded in searing, huge balls of fire, in the matter of seconds. Harsh, aggressive voices yelled commands, fearful cries of women and children mixed into the chaos of bombs, grenades and death.  

Daryl tumbled out of bed and leaped to the window. At first he thought he was dreaming. He had never heard the alarm before and didn't know what to do with the unfamiliar, threatening noise. Everything seemed to be on fire, the church, the solar panels, the barracks, the Governor's storehouse. People ran around in search for shelter, men in strange black uniforms on wild horses galloped through the streets.

Terror shot through his veins, making him freeze on the spot. It must have been the imperial forces, coming for revenge. Maybe they wanted their stolen baby back, or simply exact vengeance for the 41 men lieutenant Grimes and his troops had killed in the western territory. Whatever the reason, Alexandria didn't have the slightest chance. They were defenseless with most of their soldiers gone. The few that had stayed behind couldn't do much, being completely taken by surprise.  

Daryl couldn't breathe, hearing the screams of agony from other residents. The heat from the burning barracks was so powerful, it seeped through the closed window and the walls. Then he jumped back and huddled up in the corner next to his bed, when another explosion let his window burst and shards of thin glass blasted all over the floor. The heat got worse, thick smoke soaked into the room. He panicked and ran to the door, rattling the handle, but it didn't move. He was locked in as every night. He rattled again, punched the door with his fist and kicked it with his feet. He wanted to shout for Denise but the only sound coming out of his throat was a panicked, hoarse whimper, after not having used his voice for years.

"WE DON'T KILL THE SLAVES, IDIOT!"

The loud, angry voice with strange accent was the last thing Daryl heard before the door practically exploded off its hinges and was broken down by heavy black boots and a few merciless kicks. He fell on the ground and tried instantly to crawl beneath his bed for shelter, sure he would pass out from the lack of oxygen, his pulse droning in his ears, louder than anything else.

"Just a boy!"

Daryl felt something grasp his ankle, registered how he was pulled out from under his bed, his vocal cords producing a strange noise in an act of sheer desperation. His fingernails scratched through the wooden planks of his floor and the carpet didn't offer any support as he clawed into it. He was dragged to his feet and forcefully moved out of the room by strong hands. He stumbled and couldn't see well, his eyes wet with tears and stinging from the smoke. None of the rooms in the women's quarters looked familiar to him, everything was broken and on fire, the windows gone. He shrieked in a high pitched tone, or maybe it was the blonde girl next to him. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face splattered red. Daryl tried to pull free and was yanked off his feet the next second, a strong arm wrapping around his waist like a constrictor to carry him away as if he was made of air alone. His head hurt, his lungs burned, he felt dizzy and disoriented. And then he stopped his last, meek attempts of resistance, when he was dragged outside into the open, a hell of fire and destruction, and saw them on the ground. Lifeless bodies. Eric with red lipstick as always, but only one leg, lying in a lake of blood. And Denise with a kind of surprised expression on her pale face, captured in the very second an arrow had hit her eye.

It was the last thing Daryl saw before his vision went black, putting him out of his misery.

\----

Fresh air and gentle rocking motions, the sound of hooves on gravel, the smell of painted wood and rich, spicy smoke. Daryl tried to blink his heavy eyes open, his mouth feeling like dry sandpaper. He squinted against the bright blue sky, confused by all the pretty white clouds. They were moving. He was moving. He turned his head, desperately trying to make sense of his surroundings. He wasn't in his bed, it looked like he was in a huge, black wooden box, without a lid. A spot on his face felt sore and he tried to touch it, but couldn't. His hands didn't move. He closed his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep, out of this strange dream. But he couldn't. He couldn't move his legs either and tried to kick them. His throat got tight and his lungs too small with every second his brain was able to focus more. He wasn't dreaming, he was pinioned. He couldn't breathe properly, his immobilized body trashing around in panic like a fish out of water.

"Hey, easy!"

He jerked his head around, startled by the voice, and immediately tried to back off, when he found himself next to a large man with red hair and mustache, sitting there with a grin on his face and a cigar between his lips. He wore a black uniform with a few, small red details, heavy boots, his helmet laying next to his outstretched legs.      

"Good morning, feisty." Abraham chuckled, holding his precious cigar out of reach. "Careful with my tobacco. Cost me twenty points."

Daryl squirmed and struggled, feeling his eyes well up. He was on the back of a horse cart, tied up like a prisoner. Pictures popped into his head, from the attack, the explosions and Alexandria in flames. Denise and Eric on the ground. The imperial soldiers on their horses.

He glanced at the large man to his right, a desperate sob escaping his throat. He was so scared, his heart hurt. He wanted to beg for his life. He wanted to ask to be released. He wanted to explain that he was only a servant and was of no use to anyone. But then he didn't say anything because no word would leave his mouth and he knew exactly what his fate would be. The slaughterhouse. Everyone in Alexandria knew that. That's where all former citizens of the insurgent communities ended up once they accidentally crossed the borders to the new world. And even a silly eunuch could be cut up and would make a fine meal for the imperial cannibals.      

Abraham took a drag of his cigar, squinting at the young slave they had found in one of the buildings. He looked grown up, but then again not. His features were smooth and flawless, not a single hair on his body, except for the shiny longish strands falling around his distraught face. He was probably one of the neutered. The brutish insurgents did that to some of their young guys to preserve their boyish looks and keep them docile. Or to feel better about their lusting after the same sex, by making the boys as epicene as possible. "Oh Jeez."  It poked Abe's big, old, gruff heart when a thick tear rolled from the slave's blue eyes and a quiet sob made his pinkish lips tremble. He sighed, shaking his head. He had always had a soft spot for the dainty ones. "Come here, feisty. Sit up." He tucked the cigar between his teeth and reached over to help the man into an upright position. "Water?"

Daryl grunted and tried to duck away from the big hands touching him. He didn't want any water, he wanted to be free and run back to Alexandria to help Denise. But he wasn't free, so he looked into the other direction, wiping his wet face and runny nose into his shoulder.

"Alright, then." Abraham shrugged and leaned back again to enjoy his cigar and the rest of the trip. He surely wouldn't force his subtle charm on other people.

\----

The journey took forever and Daryl wanted to cry the whole time, but he tried not to. If he would end up on the meat hook, he could at least go with a little bit of dignity.

The beautiful landscape helped. He tried to concentrate on the trees and fields, small buildings here and there that looked abandoned. He saw a deer on a wide, green meadow and a lot of birds. Out of the corner of his eye he watched some of the imperial soldiers who accompanied the cart. Some on foot, some on horseback. One with black hair, riding on a white horse, smiled almost the whole time. Daryl really didn't understand what made him so happy. Maybe the prospect of a good, hearty meal tonight.

But he had to admit, none of the soldiers looked very gruesome in broad daylight. On a second glance not even the red haired, large man sitting with him on the cart. He made a few vulgar comments about his itchy ass and another soldier's genitals, but other than that, he seemed almost nice. All of them seemed civil. There were three other carts on the road behind them and he could hear the soldiers speak about a baby named Gracie and how it slept peacefully on Jerry's belly. Daryl was sure it must have been the stolen baby from the outpost. And first he felt sorry that the cannibals had it back now, but on the other hand they didn't seem like they wanted to eat it. Maybe it was a special baby that was chosen to grow up and become a soldier as well.

The scenery around them began to change and looked more and more unfamiliar. Daryl's back started to hurt badly after a few hours and after a few more, he had to urinate. He considered to communicate his problem somehow, but then didn't dare and rather pressed his thighs together in hopes that he would have the chance to use a toilet before he was murdered.

He grunted and pulled his shoulder up angrily, whenever the cigar-soldier held a water bottle in his direction and after another hour, when the horse cart rumbled over a bigger rock in the road, his bladder started leaking and he could feel his white sleeping pants getting soaked by hot wetness. The shame and humiliation made his skin burn and stomach flip. He stared to the left at a row of odd trees with long, slender stems and huge long leafs on the top, noticing his eyes welling up and tears spilling down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them into his shoulder this time, and didn't even suppress the small sob that wanted out. He was tired, scared and would probably not live through another day, so it would not really matter if he was pathetic or not.

"Look." Abraham took pity on the sad guy next to him, seeing him fight with his situation and fear. He nudged his arm, gesturing to the vague silhouette of a city in the distance, and a huge building in its middle. "We are almost there. It's the Sanctuary."

Daryl didn't know why the soldier's voice sounded so friendly and compassionate. It was duplicitous. But at that moment he didn't care. He looked to where the man was pointing and forgot his humiliated state for a minute. He had never seen so many buildings in one place. They were everywhere, scattered like an endless sheet over the wide landscape. Mostly white with flat roofs or domes, with a lot of the weird trees all around. A white defensive wall surrounded the huge area, up hill and down dale, but it didn't look rusty and improvised like the wall in Alexandria. It looked seamless, as if it was made from one piece of white, shiny limestone or marble. And in the middle of the city stood the biggest, highest building Daryl had ever seen in his life. It had countless windows and cylindric constructs on top that looked like slender towers or maybe smokestacks. It was light grey and somehow silvery like the placeholder in his butt, shining in the sunlight as if it was something very precious. The whole city seemed to shine like that. It all looked foreign and strange. Awe-inspiring. Like a different world.

Abraham chuckled at the mesmerized expression. It never got old, no matter how often they brought new people to the capital.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one in 2 hrs
> 
> Amazing Negan Art by my personal hero --- > http://ironybluegoat.tumblr.com/


	5. 'let the king be enthralled by your beauty'

 

The entry into the enormous city was frightening, the amount of people beyond Daryl's comprehension, and the whole place nothing but alien to his overwhelmed mind.

Everything looked clean and tidy, but lively and bustling at the same time. It smelled of the fresh flowers and green plants that grew everywhere, on balconies, in gardens, at the side of the narrow streets. The strange accent spoken confused him, just like the clothing worn by the residents. Bright colors and jewelry everywhere. Much like the outfits the Governor made him wear, the outfits everyone made fun of in Alexandria because they were made for pleasure-girls and eunuchs.

Daryl didn't even realize when he moved onto his knees on the back of the horse cart to see better. He heard music. Not like Eric's violin but more like exotic pipes and foreign harps or maybe clear bells. It sounded cheerful and somehow majestic, but he couldn't see the musicians anywhere. Two laughing children chased each other through the narrow street, passing the soldier's horse cart with big smiles on their faces. They didn't look scared at all or destined to be eaten.

When the caravan of imperial soldiers crossed a wider, more open space surrounded by flagpoles, Daryl gazed up, seeing black flags with a huge, red emblem. A magnificent eagle with spread wings and the words 'Unity is Strength' underneath.

"They are on half-mast." Abraham saluted towards the hoisted flags, just like all his companions on horseback. "We've lost 41 good men."

Daryl heard the words but couldn't quite make the connection, between the victory celebration in Alexandria, that he had spent on his knees in service, and the intimidating black flags waving here in a gentle late afternoon breeze. But he noticed all the flowers on the ground around the flagpoles, making it seem like they had grown out of flower petals and greens, instead of being embedded in the smooth, slightly shiny ground, made of light grey bricks.

In the middle of the place, surrounded by the flags, stood a huge statue on a socle. Seated upon an impressive black horse, a tall man in unusual leather armor surveyed the whole capital, dwarfing his surroundings. He looked beautiful and confident, one hand on the reins, the other raised up high, middle-, forefinger and thumb spread out as in a greeting that Daryl wasn't familiar with. He was, however, familiar with the man's face. It was the eunuch emperor from the picture. The sight made his stomach tighten, both in awe and fear. It reminded him of where he was and what was about to happen. Of Denise and the attack. Of his wet pants and his destiny as meal for the hungry imperial soldiers. He felt sickness flood his empty stomach, and terror gripping his heart. He didn't want to die like that.

He looked around in panic and then made himself as small as possible on the back of the horse cart, when it went through high gates, black and gold, along a long white street, and finally stopped in front of the most monumental building the post-apocalyptic world had created so far. Towering high and mighty above everything and everyone. Especially eunuchs from the insurgent communities.

But once grabbed and lifted off the cart as if he wouldn't weigh anything at all, Daryl fought like a wild animal. He scratched and kicked and tried to bite, as much as his restraints would allow. He tried to scream and when his voice let him down, he growled and grunted at all the people around. The red haired soldier who seemed amused by his behavior. The ever smiling soldier with the black hair, and all the imperial guards who stood in countless numbers at every door and every gate in plain black uniforms, but with golden details instead of red.

Daryl wasn't impressed by their cool demeanor. They were nothing but pathetic cowards and if he wouldn't have been restraint, he would have fought them all. Maybe not for long, because they had weapons and he didn't, but at least he wouldn't go down without resistance.

He wasn't brought into the main building, but a smaller one with white marble columns left and right from the entry. It was warm inside and smelled like herbs and soap. There weren't any meat hooks or knives, but Daryl squirmed anyway in the soldier's firm hold and then turned his head to bite his shoulder with a snarl.

Abraham's uniform could withstand walker bites, bullets and blades, so he just raised an eyebrow at the raging man and then called out loud to be served. "STOOKEY!"

"Ho, Abe, your friend seems a bit rabid." A man with friendly smile and sand-colored tunic stepped into the entry hall. "Should I schedule an inoculation?"

"No." Abraham sighed, tired and kind of annoyed after a hard battle night and very long day on the road. "But this one needs a check-up, the usual testing and..." He held his grunting prisoner on arm's length, gesturing to his wet pants. "A bath."

Bob tilted his head, smirking. "Was he a slave? Where's he from?"

"Alexandria." Abe gritted his teeth when Daryl tried to kick with his bound feet. "The Kingdom took the rest of their slaves."

"Good old Zeke." Bob chuckled, getting a small knife out of his adorned belt.  "I hope the others aren't such a hand full." He squatted down, ducked away from another attack of kicking feet, and then just cut the rope to free the man's legs. "Will he be presented to Negan?"

"I guess so." Abraham held the prisoner's wrists securely, so Bob could cut the rope there, too. "Take him to Jesus when you're done."

"Sure." Bob smiled, tucking his knife back into his belt.

"Maybe I should stay." Soldier Rhee watched with slight concern as the freed prisoner stood there with flared nostrils, hands clenched to fists, like an unleashed lion ready to attack.

"Nah," Abe patted Glenn's shoulder, shoving him to the exit. "Stookey got this." He raised a hand, smirking, before he vanished through the door. "See you around, feisty!"

\----

The slaughterhouse didn't have tiled floors with drains, no slaughtering blocks or cold stores. Instead it had three rooms. One for grooming, one for physical examination, and one that looked like a fancy livingroom. Daryl was confused and angry and didn't undress when he was asked to. But he punched the friendly man in the face when he took a pair of scissors out to carefully cut the stained sleeping dress off. Then he felt bad because the man looked really hurt and his nose bled a little.

"I just..." Bob wiped his aching nose with the back of his hand. "Give you some privacy. Please undress and sit on the table. I am back in ten minutes." He gave his patient an almost pleading look and left the room.

Daryl glared after him and then looked around. There was a window but he knew there were guards outside everywhere. He found a lot of medical tools, knives and pointy objects on a silver cabinet. Maybe he could kill some of them. Or he could kill himself before the emperor had a chance to do it. The thought made him sad and nauseous. He didn't want to die. He wanted to go back to Alexandria and Denise and the knobby oaks in the park. He wondered if Denise was dead. Maybe a bolt in the eye wasn't deadly and a doctor had saved her life. But of course Denise was a servant and servants weren't on the list for medical help. Because servants were replaceable and good medical service too rare and costly to be wasted on the lower people. And maybe the doctor's office had been on fire as well. Maybe the Governor wasn't even alive anymore. Maybe the imperial soldiers had killed him.

Daryl wasn't sure how the thought made him feel. Mister Blake was a scary person, very rude and cold. But he had given him a job and a roof over his head. Food and clothing. And one time, after his first anal service, he had received a glass of apple juice.

At least the Governor would never eat babies or breed humans in cages.

Daryl glanced at the door, then took one of the small, sharp silver knives and undressed. He folded his dirty sleeping dress neatly, climbed on the metal table and waited there, his knife in hand. If the friendly man came back to slaughter him, he would slit his throat first. Then he would sneak out of town at night and find Lieutenant Grimes and the cavalry. He would show them where the emperor lived and then they would get revenge for Denise and Eric and all the burned down houses of Alexandria.

\----

Bob Stookey didn't slaughter the former slave sitting on his examination table. But he let him keep the scalpel and asked him several question while he looked into his ears, his mouth and drew blood from his arm. He didn't get any answer and checked the man's throat a second time, with a small, crooked mirror, looking for damaged vocal cords. He found them intact and snapped his fingers next to the man's ears, waiting for a reaction. He got a grim look out of blue eyes, sighed and took his clipboard to write some things down. "Every citizen needs a medical record. We keep track for their monthly check-ups. Health is important here."

Daryl listened and had no idea why the man told him all that. He wasn't a citizen here and couldn't afford medical services. He was a bedroom servant, he wasn't supposed to go to the doctor. He wanted to explain it but then just held his scalpel a bit higher when a thin, blue pen was pointed at his genitals.

"At what age have you been gelded?" Bob didn't get an answer and made a note about the lack of beard and body hair, as well as a noticeably shrunken copulatory organ. "I will advise testosterone replacements and calcium supplements. We have a good reproductive endocrinologist here, he will be able to reduce your side effects. Otherwise you are at risk to develop osteoporosis." He put his clipboard down and gestured to the door. "Follow me." He was long out of the room before his request was followed.

Daryl carried his folded clothes and scalpel through the strange building, warily looking around for any other people, but there wasn't anyone other than the friendly man, who led him into a bathroom. A big one, with mirror and bathtub, sink and a rack with a selection of clothes. The lighting was subdued and it was warm but not steamy. Everything smelled good and was much more elegant than the small chamber with bathtub back home at the women's quarters in Alexandria.

"You can wash yourself and dress. Just pick what you like." Bob handed him a big black towel. "I'll wait outside until you're done. Take your time."

Daryl watched as the door was closed and looked down at the towel in his hands. It was incredibly soft and the tiny emblem of a red eagle with spread wings was at one corner. He touched it with his thumb, then glanced up at the mirror and his reflection. He looked horrible. Pale and tired. His hair tousled and dirty. No paint accentuated his eyes. No jewelry made him look pretty. Instead several bruises were scattered all over his body and a red scratch shone on his cheek. He went closer to the mirror and angled his head. It looked almost like the scratch the Alexandrian soldier had on his face. A real battle wound. He touched it and winced because it hurt like a real wound, too. Then he felt his throat tighten painfully as he looked himself into the eyes and watched them welling up. A tear fell down, rolling over his cheek. His chin started to tremble. His vision got blurry and he let his gaze drop with a hoarse sob.

He looked like Denise was dead.

He had never washed or dressed himself. Not once in his life because his body wasn't his.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to hear a new good night wish.

\----

Bob sat outside for a long time, right next to the doorframe, pursing his lips as he listened to the heart-wrenching sobs and whimpers he heard through the door. He could only imagine what this poor guy's life had looked like until now, and still he seemed to feel loyal to his former owner and even experienced homesickness. It never ceased to amaze him. He had seen it with other rescued slaves and eunuchs, most emotionally scarred for a lifetime, not to mention the physical damage. It really was a shame.

After an hour he knocked at the door and of course got no answer. He entered anyway, but stayed in respectful distance. "Do you need help?" The young man knelt naked in the empty bathtub, quietly crying, hiding his face against his forearm. "I show you how the faucet works, okay?" This time he got a nod. A desperate one. It made him smile and feel guilty at the same time. Obviously slaves of Alexandria weren't supposed to take a bath, self-determined. He went closer and sat down on the brim, carefully adjusting the temperature as he turned on the water. He scented it with mint and lemon, added an extra generous amount of almond oil and talked about the little stray cat his wife Sasha had recently found behind the house, while he washed the young man's hair, rinsed the soap out and washed it again, with gentle fingers. He talked about the little sweater Sasha had knitted for the cat just because it looked adorable. And in the end he gestured for his patient to get up so he could dry him off. He didn't comment on the silver plug peeking out between pale butt cheeks, just dried his hair and combed it, astonished when the man seemed to enjoy all the grooming by the hands of a stranger. "What would you like to wear?"

Daryl glanced at the clothes rack. There was something yellow, something red, sand-colored like the friendly man wore, nothing black, but right in the middle hung a tunic in teal and turquoise. It looked a little bit like the gown he had worn in Alexandria. This one was just more luxurious with golden details and matching sash. He pointed at it and thought if he had to die tonight, at least Denise would be proud of him for wearing something that went well with the color of his eyes.

"Good choice!" Bob took the tunic off its hanger, feeling almost relieved about the tiny bit of interaction. "Should I assist?" The naked man didn't answer, but put his hands above his head, as if dressing him went without saying. Bob chuckled. "Clever tactic."

It took a while to put the fine garment on. It had to be adjusted a few times and was finished off with a golden foulard, tightly wrapped around Daryl's waist like a belt.

He wasn't allowed to take his dirty, wet sleeping outfit with him, but he refused to let go of the scalpel and held it tightly in his right hand when he went on his brave, last walk, following the friendly doctor-bath attendant out of the building, along neat pathways to the entry of the huge, grey-silvery Sanctuary. It was dark outside by now, but its palatial facade still shone gracefully, illuminated by strange lights and high lanterns that looked like torches.

It was a bit difficult to climb up all the stairs to the entry in the new gown, and for a moment Daryl thought he would have to start crying again when he saw the guards at the door. But then he just exhaled a huffed breath and quickly blinked his eyes underneath his longish bangs, reminding himself to be courageous. Maybe he was the last resident alive from Alexandria. He would try and make the fallen proud.

The inside of the emperor's gigantic home was a maze of splendors. Ceilings as high as the sky, tall columns everywhere, some twisted, some with gilded capitals. Mosaicked  walls, brightly colored and glazed, showing elaborate art or scenes of warriors in battle. Just like outside, the inner rooms and hallways of the building were decorated with flowers and green plants, even two fountains, burbling water. The eunuch emperor also seemed to like horses, because the statue of a black one stood in all sizes at several places.

They went some stairs up again and then some more, broad stairs made of shiny stone, almost shiny enough to be reflected in its surface. They met a few people on the way and the friendly man greeted them with strange sayings. The farther and deeper they went into the building, the more clenched Daryl's stomach, up to the point where it really hurt. He felt a little bit dizzy. Then hot for a moment, and after that so cold that his fingers started to tremble.

"This way." Bob gestured to the left and towards a courtyard. A huge courtyard inside the building, with high walls and real trees and plants all around. Another fountain and a shallow, tiled pond with fishes inside were in the middle and at one side stood a golden cage with birds. Colorful, big birds.

Daryl had never seen anything like them before. But the courtyard didn't have just water, birds and plants, it also had thick cushions, carpets, couches and chairs. Low tables with glasses and jugs. Silver bowls with fruit inside. And on top of the couches and cushions sat girls. Dressed like the bedroom servants in Alexandria. Some looked at him, some didn't. He ignored them all and dropped his gaze, following the friendly man deeper into the room. And then couldn't help but to look up again and stare a little dumbfounded when the most beautiful bedroom servant he had ever met suddenly appeared in front of them. With long, shiny hair, tucked behind his ear at one side to reveal a long dangling, golden earring. He wore dark green eyeliner on his lower lids and an airy, green tunic, but so low cut in the front that it exposed most of his well toned, slender chest, all the way down to the small silver ring in his belly button.

"Salam."

He smiled from his lips to his eyes, showing off his impressive, light brown full beard.

Daryl stared at the man's face, wanting to touch it, to feel the beard.

"Who's he?" Jesus smirked from Doctor Stookey to the stranger and back again. "He's cute."

"He's new." Bob wrinkled his forehead. "A bit shy. He's supposed to be presented to Negan."

"Good idea." Jesus gave the young man in his courtyard a lascivious once-over, quirking his left eye brow. "His Excellency will like that."

Bob chuckled, "I thought he asked you to stop calling him that."

"Yeah, but he's not here." Jesus squinted, waving his hand dismissively. "And Mister Pembroke won't betray me again." He gave one of the parrots in the golden aviary a warning glance. "Right Judas?" The bird cawed something in return and Jesus shrugged satisfied at his guests. "See? We're good. And His Excellency will adore him."  

"Well, okay then." Bob shook his head, laughing. "Let me know how it went." He squeezed Daryl's shoulder, "I'll have your blood values on Tuesday. Come and see me then." and turned to leave.

"Farewell!" Jesus waved after him with a friendly smile and then very casually extended his hand to Daryl. "I'm Paul. But my friends actually call me Jesus."

Daryl stared at the delicate fingers, embellished with several sparkling rings and a strange filigree drawing. But the decision whether to shake them or not was made for him, when three girls behind them started to giggle loudly.

"Alright, Trisha! Shut it!" Jesus shot them a death stare, his formerly friendly voice dropping into a frosty tone. He showed them his hand in a blah-blah gesture, before he put an arm around Daryl's shoulders, leading him to a more private corner of the yard. "Just ignore them, they're bitter. They didn't get laid in ages."    

\----

"So, where are you from?"

It was the 7th question that Daryl refused to answer. He sat on the floor, on a dark blue velvet cushion, while the beautiful bedroom servant braided a thin golden chain into his hair. Its stunning main piece rested perfectly on his bangs and forehead, dangling almost unnoticeably against his skin. He reached up to touch it, noticing how soft his hair felt. Like silk, after it had been combed for almost thirty minutes. And all the while he had wondered what a strange place this was. Maybe like the women's quarters in Alexandria? Just with plants and birds and fishponds? Maybe eunuch emperors liked it that way. He imagined having all those things at home. He imagined Denise feeding the fishes and scolding the big birds for speaking naughty things. It made him smile for the split of a second until he remembered the fire. And arrows sticking in eyeballs. He dropped his gaze, fumbling with the luxurious fabric of his tunic.

Jesus tipped his head to the side. "Are you sad?"

Daryl didn't answer, but this time he really wanted to. After seven seconds he nodded, just once and very faintly.

"Don't be." Jesus cupped the side of the shy man's face, smiling softly. "This is a good place. You are safe here."  

Daryl's eyebrows furrowed, first in confusion, then anger. How could he be safe here? Within a spitting distance of the slaughterhouse and a very cruel death.

Jesus studied the man's face thoughtfully. "Man, you are really beautiful." He smirked, fishing a pair of golden earrings out of his jewelry box. "And these will make you even prettier."

Daryl didn't say anything. Because he never did. And he had given up on trying to understand the weird behavior of the people in this place. Why they felt the need to examine and garnish their victims before killing them. He didn't care anymore and didn't fight the deftly fingers threading a thin golden hook through the tiny hole in his earlobe. He even liked it. The earrings were nice and Denise would have liked them a lot.

He tilted his head to the side to give better access to his other ear and then leaped off his cushion with a startled grunt when a huge blue-green bird with white beak almost pecked into his face.

"Oh, that's just Goose." Jesus grinned, shooing the peacock away. "He likes shiny things, you know?" He crawled after Daryl and knelt in front of him to adorn his other ear, then rubbed his bearded chin. "Hm... we still need something for your eyes."

\----

At first Daryl had been really satisfied. The beautiful bedroom servant had brought him to a big mirror, where he could see himself from head to toe. And he had to admit he looked really good and could die with dignity. The tunic fit him well, his hair was all shiny and the jewelry looked so nice how it fell into his forehead like a small waterfall made of gold. The eyeliner on his lids looked a bit different from the way it was normally put on. It looked better. He was sure Denise would have kissed his cheek as she always did when she was really excited. And the Governor would have certainly given him another glass of apple juice and sent the additional girl out of the room, because he always appreciated when his male servants looked all dolled up like that.

But now, that he was following the imperial servant through the confusing maze of doors and hallways again, to be presented to the great eunuch emperor, who held men in chains and women in cages, who ate babies and set a whole town on fire just like that, now he felt so ill that he considered to slit his own throat with the tiny scalpel, to die a quick death.

He felt blood pulse in his ears and his heart hammer in his chest. A million possibilities shooting through his head, from begging the beautiful servant to let him free, over using his chance to heroically kill the emperor with the tiny weapon in his hands, to just fainting and pretending to be seriously sick, so he wouldn't be eaten.

And then all of it didn't matter anymore when they arrived at a huge door with a very bulky man in front, holding a gigantic battleaxe. Daryl felt his skin growing cold and knees getting weak, like they were made of semolina paste.

"He can't take that inside." The guard nodded towards the small silver medical tool in Daryl's hands, trying to look stern.

"Oh, come on Jerry." Jesus tugged the front of the guard's uniform with two fingers. "I think it is his comfort knife or something. He is all alone in the world and it's his first day here."  

The guard chuckled and pulled his shoulders up, being ticklish, especially in the belly area. "Okay." He had a soft spot for new arrivals who suffered from social anxiety. "But be careful with it. It looks sharp." He took his axe in one hand and reached out with the other to open the massive door, announcing the visitors to be received in audience on the top of his copious lungs. "JESUS AND GUEST!"

"Thank you." Jesus smiled triumphantly and went inside.

Daryl didn't feel his legs or the ground beneath his feet. He was numb. He didn't look around but he saw that the room was huge. Like a hall for hundreds of people. It wasn't very bright and not very warm. It was the slaughterhouse, he knew it. He couldn't breathe. His body was trembling so bad, it was hard to stay upright. He felt lost, turned to the left, then whimpered once because he was so scared of the pain that would come, and finally crouched down on the floor, making himself as small as possible. He felt like crying but not one single tear came, and he just squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would be over soon.

Somewhere in the back of the room were voices, a chuckle, the beautiful servant saying something before he was sent out. The big door opened for a brief moment and closed with a heavy thud, sealing his fate. He held his breath, thinking of Denise and her last good night wish.

Dwight snorted scornfully, gesturing towards the pathetic display of respect. "What the fuck, man, that's just-" He shook his head, but kept the rest of his comment to himself, when he was cut off with a small hand sign by the tall man next to him.

Negan didn't lose his relaxed posture. His left leg stretched out to full length, the right foot put up onto the edge of his chair. He poked the tip of his tongue against one of his back teeth, while he drummed two fingers on his knee. Waiting and watching. He had time.   

After three minutes, he bit back a faint smile, rubbing his lips with the side of his fingers, when the trembling figure on the ground blinked up through longish hair, just for the split of a second.

In minute five he did it again and kept his eyes warily up, like a scared rabbit peeking out of its lair.

Negan tilted his head to the left, smiling. "Salam. How's it goin'?"  

Daryl's breath hitched in his throat and he dropped his gaze instantly. The eunuch emperor was there, sitting in a huge chair. He had bare legs and black boots, a very tight leather armor and his hair was slicked back. Like in the picture. He also had his eunuch facepaint on, all black and pretty around his eyes.

Negan sighed dramatically when he got out of his chair, taking his time at such a late hour. "What's your name?" He crossed the room slowly, stopping right in front of his terrified guest. He didn't get an answer, but the trembling to his feet got worse. "Do you speak English?" He waited a moment, then squatted down with another sigh, making his leather squeak. "Est-ce que tu parles Français? Non? Español?" He tipped his head to the side, nudging a hunched shoulder with two fingers. "Esme shoma chist?" The man flinched away from his touch. He pursed his lips. "Do I smell good?"

Daryl peeked up, confused by the question and the smell of shoe polish, leather and horse.

Negan chuckled, snapping his fingers against the sharp scalpel in trembling fingers. "Are you a hitman? Will you fucking kill me with that?"

A last spark of defiance flared up in Daryl's brave Alexandrian heart. He didn't look up but he nodded.

Negan didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. But he held his hand out. "Or you give it to me and I invite you to a nice glass of water and a civil conversation between men."

Daryl exhaled soundly, seeing a large hand with a broad, golden ring right underneath his nose. It smelled spicy and he hated that it was so persistent. He shifted nervously in his crouched position, huffed another breath and finally handed his small weapon over, hating himself for it.

"Better." Negan put three fingers underneath the man's chin to force it up a little, and pointed with the scalpel towards his chair. "That's where we talk. Not here." He got up and went back to where he had been coming from, sitting down, before he waved two fingers to his right. "D. Bring us some water, what's wrong with you."   

Daryl didn't move. He stared at his trembling fingers on the light-grey floor. He heard someone sigh in annoyance, heard the door open and close, he heard nothing but his own breathing for a long time and then the deep voice of the emperor with a simple command. It didn't sound threatening, but not especially friendly, either.

"Come here."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling nauseous and dizzy when he got up. The ground was smooth and cool beneath his feet and the way seemed endless through the large room. He didn't look up and stayed in a safe distance as he reached the back end with the row of three large chairs, made of silver steel and black leather. He could see the emperor's boots on the ground and clenched his hands to fists at his sides. Maybe he could punch him. He had a bit of muscle from his secret training after all.

Negan watched patiently, leaning into the left armrest of his chair. Thumb under his bearded chin, his index finger on the bridge of his nose, as he ran his tongue over his teeth and let it linger on his eyetooth. His gaze moved towards the door when his General came back with two glasses of water, no tray, no jug for refills.

"Take it." Dwight nudged Daryl's arm with the glass, spilling a good amount. "And kneel down, asshole."

"Hey!" Negan raised his voice and blindly gestured to the free seat to his right. "Sit."

Dwight gritted his teeth, put one glass of water on the ground in front of Daryl's bare feet and handed the other in a submissive posture to Negan, mumbling a defiant, "My Lord." before he sat down as he was supposed to.

Daryl didn't kneel down and he didn't take the water, just stared at it because he was so thirsty.

Negan didn't drink, either, just tapped the glass with one of his fingernails. "Alexandria doesn't exist anymore. Their troops destroyed one of the empire's outposts, killed 41 of my men and abducted an infant. Therefore they have lost their raison d'être." He paused, studying every of the young man's reactions attentively. The small gasp, the slightly heaving chest, the way he shrunk two inches in his entire height when he was told the blunt truth. "Everyone who surrendered was taken in by our confederates. They are free to live in the new world under the empire's rules, or leave and try their god damn luck someplace else." He tipped his head to the side. "For the slaves however, these rules do not apply. Slaves are weak. They don't think for themselves, they got deprived of education and have no self esteem. They don't know who they really are, what their purpose is." He nodded once, fully aware that the brainwashed person standing in front of him wouldn't consider himself a slave. "But, here in the empire, we do not believe in slavery. We do not allow people to be weak. Weak gets killed. So, we make them strong, help them find their place in this world." He moved his arm to the side, resting the glass of water on the armrest. "Look at me."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his lower lip, trying to hold his tears back. He hadn't understood everything the eunuch emperor had talked about. The only thing resounding over and over in his head was 'Alexandria doesn't exist anymore'.

"I said look at me!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling something wet trickle down his nose before it dropped on the smooth, grey floor. He raised his head, feeling defeated in any way humanly possible as he opened his eyes again and looked at the man who had wiped his home from the face of the earth like a smudge of dirt.

"You are no slave here. But at the moment, you are not free to leave, either." Negan tilted his chin down, expecting eye contact. "First we will make you nice and strong, find your special purpose. Then you may decide if you want to stay or leave." He got no answer, other than a small sob. "I take it you've been a whore in your hometown?" The blunt denotation had no visible effect on the young man, obviously not familiar with the term. "A pleasure slave. You served your owner in bed."

Daryl wasn't sure how the emperor knew that but he felt oddly comforted by the fact that he did. He nodded.

"Hm." Negan nodded as well. "Did you like it?" He got another nod almost immediately. It made his General snort in blunt amusement and he raised a hand to make him stop. "We don't have whores here. But we appoint you to be a chamberlain for the time being, until we figured out what else you're good at."

Daryl didn't know what that meant but the word 'slaughterhouse' wasn't mentioned. He fumbled with the fabric of his tunic, wrapping some of it around his finger. The emperor had small ear studs in his lobes, looking like they were made of very tiny black stones. Flat and shiny.

"You will be trained by my people, starting tomorrow. Jesus waits outside, he will show you where you can sleep." Negan couldn't deny that he kind of adored the mixture of exterior grace and inner unwieldiness, garnished with a touch of childlike innocence, when the man reached up to touch his forehead and the golden piece of jewelry braided into his hair. As if he had forgotten that it was there. It made him smile. "You may leave now." He got up and held his hand out with his palm facing downward, offering the opportunity to kiss his ring. "Bid good night."

Daryl glanced at the tall man standing in front of him and then cast his eyes down, not sure what to do. He huffed a nervous breath and tugged a strand of hair falling over his ear, as he made three steps forward and shyly wrapped a loose hand around three of the emperor's long fingers, shaking them awkwardly.

"You are supposed to get the fuck down and kiss his-"

Dwight's impatient outburst was stopped immediately by a brief gesture.

Negan didn't correct the young man's faux pas, just turned his own hand around to give a proper handshake."Good night." He made it a strong one, liking the insecure expression on a slightly blushed face. "Thank you for coming to see me."

Daryl avoided his eyes and nodded once, thinking the eunuch emperor was very tall and maybe a little bit nice. Then he flexed his fingers when they were released from the firm grip and turned around to leave, somewhat disorientated, finding it hard to locate the big, heavy door even though it was the only door the room had.

\----

Bedroom servants in the shiny Sanctuary palace weren't locked into their small chambers at night. They had no small chambers. They had their own rooms, laid out around the fish pond-courtyard. Big rooms with large beds and no windows but high balcony doors, leading out onto broad balconies with flowers and hanging plants.

Daryl didn't have his own room. He stayed with the beautiful servant, who had built the most comfortable bed for him on the floor, out of a mountain of pillows and cushions. He had even chased the Goose-peacock away and closed the door, so the curious girls couldn't come in.

But still, once it got very still and night came, Daryl couldn't hold his tears back. He heard the distant babbling of the fountain and the rustling of a bird moving in its big cage. It smelled like fruit he had never eaten all his life and plants he had never seen before. Nobody had told him good night and there wasn't a key to lock the door. He didn't understand why he wasn't killed by now and what his fate would be. He missed Denise and home. And he wondered what the other survivors of the Alexandrian bombing would do right now. If they were scared and sad like him.

He wiped a hand over his wet face and his nose into one of the thick velvet pillows, and then froze in shock when all of sudden the sound of gunfire was to be heard, loud detonations, whizzing and thunderous thud sounds. He sat up, staring to the balcony door to see the reflection of fiery explosions in the glass pane. Did the cavalry come to save him? He scrambled to his feet, out of his pillow bed, and rattled at the handle of the balcony door. He yanked it open and ducked his head as he stepped outside, the cool night air smelling like gun powder. But there weren't any bombs. No Lieutenant Grimes and his troops to rescue silly bedroom servants. It was fireworks, bursting above the city, golden and acid green flares sparkling through the dark night sky.

"It is the fireworks for the fallen." Jesus stood next to him at the balcony parapet, a thin blanket wrapped around his slender form. "They send one up into the sky for every freed soul, to help them find the way."

Daryl stared up when a bright light exploded into a million of tiny, soundless glittery sparkles.

Jesus nudged him softly, not taking his eyes off the spectacle. "Have you lost someone in the battle?"

Daryl glanced at the man next to him, his face illuminated by the crackling lights. "Hm." He nodded, dropping his gaze.

Jesus smiled faintly. "Then the next one is for them."

\----

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gorgeous (oh my isn't he SO gorgeous???) Daryl Art of course by the one and only http://ironybluegoat.tumblr.com/ I am not worthy, I swear...


	6. Stranger

 

"Soooaaap." Jesus enunciated the word extra clearly, when the newest addition to the Sanctuary's large household just stood in the bathtub and stared at him, not moving a finger. He held the bar of soap up in front of Daryl's nose, giving him an encouraging smile. "You can wash with it. It smells like ginger."

Daryl huffed a small breath, not doing anything. He really wished Denise would be there.

"Hm." Jesus shrugged and dipped a sponge into the warm water, "So, how come you don't speak?" then brushed the slippery soap bar against it, working up a nice lather. "You never told me your name or where you come from."

A big, blue-green bird entered the open bathroom and Daryl glared at it. He would punch it if it would try to attack him again. 

"Oh that's not Goose." Jesus ran the soapy sponge over Daryl's chest, down to his belly and up again. "That's Chicken. He's friendly." He spent a little more time than necessary on a pink nipple and squeezed the sponge, allowing the soapy runoff to slide down the man's torso, down to pale thighs. He washed them gently, starting from the top, working down and didn't blink twice before he went to unashamedly exposed genitals. "Do you miss your balls?"

Daryl looked down, watching as his skin was cleaned. The pretty servant did it different than Denise but he talked just as much. He shrugged, not sure if he missed them or not, because he didn't really remember having any.

"I would miss mine." Jesus smiled, loving how soft and innocently flaccid the man's penis felt in his palm as he washed it, twice. "But you look good without."

The peacock tilted its head to the side and turned around to leave, disappointed that it didn't receive any treat or attention.

Daryl glanced warily back over his shoulder when the pretty imperial servant walked around the tub with the dripping sponge to wash his backside.

Jesus frowned, his hand slowing without intention as he saw the man's scarred back. Many scars. Old ones, having adapted almost skin color, and a bit newer ones in pale pink. He traced one with the sponge before resuming his earlier pace. "You know what? I will just call you Michael until I know your real name." He smiled faintly, continuing to scrub the smooth skin like precious china, with caution but trying not to think too closely about it. "When we're done here, I show you where we eat and then we will start on your training. You will like it, it's one of the best jobs here." He ran the sponge over the high cleft of a shapely butt, watching white suds slide down and between firm cheeks. "Is it okay if I remove your plug?"

Daryl grunted instantly when he felt intruding fingers on his silver placeholder and slapped them off.

"Just for cleaning." Jesus held his hands up. "I'm gen-te-ly, scout's honor." He smiled and pulled the plug out without much of a fuss, twisting it expertly and started to clean the stretched hole in the same second. "Is it from your last owner?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness, his muscle protesting against the sudden loss of support.

"Well, maybe you can wear one for his Majesty now?" Jesus suggested, dipping the sponge into the warm water and then went back to cleaning, enjoying the task. "I asked him last year if I could wear a belt for him and six months ago he agreed." He wiped his forehead with his wet wrist in a gesture of relief. "Finally! I tell you that was hard work. If you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrow, then leaned in closer, next to Daryl's shoulder to whisper secretively. "Between you and me, it caused quite a riot in here. Oh boy..." He shook his head, chuckling. "I sleep with one eye open ever since. Don't mess with jealous, underfucked ladies."

Daryl just glanced at the beautiful servant in silence, not sure what to make out of the conversation. 

"You wanna see?" Paul smiled friendly, dropping the sponge into the tub and lifted his tunic, revealing a black leather belt around his slender waist, right above his hipbones, underneath his navel. It had a center strap downwards, all the way between his legs and up again, covering his buttcrack, fastened at the backside of the waistbelt. It was intermitted in the front by a heavy silver ring, sitting snugly around his genitals. "It has a plug inside, here." He twisted his hips a bit sideways, pointing to the leather strap covering his butt crack.

Daryl had never seen anything like that and poked a finger out against the man's balls. He thought the servant would have been a eunuch as well.

"Pretty, right?" Paul didn't mind being used for object-lesson. He showed the small silver lock at one of the heavy front buckles, preventing the chastity belt from being removed by unauthorized hands. "He owns the key."

Daryl looked from the strange leather undergarment up to the man's happy face.

Paul dropped his tunic and wagged his brows with an almost smug smile. "What can I say, I am the luckiest bastard in town."

Daryl didn't know if that was true. But he picked up the silver plug from the brim of the bathtub and held it out for Jesus so he could put it back into its place. He would certainly not wear such silly leather panties for the baby-eating emperor. 

\----

The jingling from numerous pieces of dangling jewelry sounded through the endless hallways of the capital's governmental building when two young men made their way to breakfast.

Of course, Daryl didn't intend to eat anything with the cannibals, even though his empty stomach hurt by now. But he wanted to come along anyway, because he didn't want to be alone with all the peacocks and women.

"Salam." Jesus greeted everyone they met with the same friendly smile and showed great patience whenever the empire's newest resident stopped in pure wonder to have a closer look at all the things he had obviously never seen before. Like the big palatial gardens and stables, the spacious children's buildings, the large auditorium, or the surrogates home. 

He seemed a little flustered with the last one and glowered through the fence at the pregnant women relaxing in the beautiful morning weather. 

"They are surrogate mothers." Paul explained, sticking his super flat belly out in demonstration. "They are the most valued citizens here. They help to repopulate the world, you know? People are the foundation of the empire."

Daryl squinted in anger and confusion. He couldn't see any cages and the young blonde woman singing for the baby she held in her arms didn't look like she planned to eat it, but still it all seemed very suspicious.

They crossed another huge yard, but not as beautiful and artfully decorated as the others, and Daryl stopped and stared with open mouth at the group of at least 200 men jogging in perfect formation past them, all dressed in black shirts, pants and boots. A tall man in the same outfit jogged next to them, shouting lines out loud that the entire group repeated at the top of their lungs.

"Here we go!"

"HERE WE GO!" 

"Every day!"

"EVERY DAY!"

"All the way!"

"ALL THE WAY!"

"What are we?"

"UNITY!"

The cadence emphasized the rhythmic slap of the sea of heavy boots as they struck the ground satisfyingly in unison, leaving Daryl stunned. It was the eunuch emperor. But not in leather and warpaint. He looked just like his men, and he ran with them as if he was one of them. 

He blinked at Jesus who saluted with a vacant stare, standing at attention until the group had passed and then smiled as if nothing had happened and continued his way to the building where the Sanctuary served a shared breakfast.    

"It's the morning drill. I don't have to attend for a week, because his Majesty wants me to train you." Paul nudged Daryl's arm. "So thank you for coming to town, Mikey!"

\----

A friendly woman greeted Daryl with a 'Salam' at the entry, told him he had number 384-44, and handed him a nicely embossed silver tray. Jesus got one as well with a slightly different food selection and led the way into a huge room, crowded with people who all sat on the ground along long rugs instead of tables, chattering and eating. He found them a free spot and sat down with crossed legs.

Daryl didn't. He froze in place and stared at his weird food, that didn't look like human meat, but more like a flat bread with white cheese and fruit jam. Then everyone started to talk to him and tried to encourage him to sit down, so he did, trying not to look up. He placed the silly tray on the tablecloth-rug and didn't say anything, no matter who tried to talk to him. Some made him compliments on his hair and outfit, and he growled when a young man with big brown eyes tried to touch his jewelry. 

"Mikey is from out of town." Paul explained, sipping his tea to a big bite of lavash bread. "I think he never ate bread. I heard they eat only raw fish among the insurgents. And seals."

"That's the Inuit." Siddiq was sure. "The insurgents are actually hunters and gatherers." He gestured with a piece of bread to Paul's new companion. "Right Mike? Your kind eats like elderberries and wild garlic."

Daryl squinted angrily at his silver tray, hating that everyone talked to him and asked silly questions. He didn't even know what elderberries were. People in Alexandria ate deer and sorghum. But now of course they didn't eat anything anymore because the horrible bread-eating cannibals had burned it all down.

"My father was a hunter." Ben still wore his training clothes, too hungry to get changed before breakfast. "And he taught me spearfishing."

"Hm?" Jesus smiled at Daryl, dipping a bit of bread into the feta cheese to show him how to eat it. "It is good, see?" He opened his mouth wide and chewed with a loud 'Mmh!', but his table mate didn't even look. Then a big rustle went through the room and endless rows of people, when everyone moved from their relaxed position into a kneeling posture. 

A stout man in red court dress and battleaxe entered the room to announce his lord and master. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS!"

The golden bangles on Daryl's wrist clinked together when he raised his hand to move a long strand of shiny hair out of his face. He looked around, seeing that all the people had stopped eating and talking. Instead they kept their eyes lowered, sitting perfectly still, as a tall man in black sports gear walked through the rows, carrying a silver tray. His hair was a bit ruffled and he looked sweaty. 

Daryl blinked and lowered his head as all the others, trying to make himself invisible. He wasn't sure why the emperor would sat foot into a meal place for normal people and it made him nervous. Maybe he was punished for doing something wrong or it was time for execution. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the man coming closer. He heard several voices saying a friendly 'my lord' and sensed someone sitting down across from him, on the other side of the rug, before another rustle went through the room and it was filled with the sound of chattering and clanking dishes again.

"How was training, Sir?" Jesus shifted on his butt, moving back into his cross legged position.

"A lot more efficient without you." Negan tore off a piece of bread and ate it with cheese.

Paul squinted. "Are you implying that I am slow, Sir?"

Negan didn't answer, as his mouth was full, but he gestured a thumbs-up in confirmation, making the people around him chuckle. 

"Excuse me?" Paul pouted. "I am not slow, I am just enjoying the experience of walking."  

"Yeah, right." Negan snorted, nodding at the trembling person sitting opposite him. "How is it going."

"Michael misses his berries and garlic." Jesus put an arm around Daryl's shoulders. "Or maybe he is carnivore and doesn't like bread."

"Hm." Negan scrutinized his newest subject for a while, enjoying the sight along with his tea. A strand of shiny hair stuck out awkwardly beneath the delicate golden head jewelry in the man's forehead and blue lined eyes were squeezed shut tightly. "We all eat together so everyone interacts and develops personal attachment. Spending time together is the best way to build unity." He didn't get a reaction and raised his hand in a warning when Ben and Siddiq next to him started to snicker. "I would like you to look at me when I talk to you."

Daryl was angry. He hated the food and this silly place where all had to do things together. He hated the deep voice talking to him and he didn't want to open his eyes. But after a few seconds he did anyway, because he didn't want to be punished for misbehaving. 

The eunuch emperor didn't kneel and didn't sit Indian style like most of the others. He was sitting all relaxed with one leg bent in front of his chest, his forearm resting casually on his knee. His tight black shirt looked damp and lacked sleeves, showing off a slight sheen of sweat on corded arms. 

Daryl kept his eyes open but quickly looked to the side.

Negan smirked. "Your name is Michael?"

Daryl stared at a pretty, very colorful mosaic at the wall and after a moment shook his head, because he didn't want to be punished for lying, either.  

"What?" Jesus shrugged innocently when Negan shot him a questioning stare. "I think he looks like a Michael."

Negan reached over and tapped the beautifully embossed rim of Daryl's silver tray with his fingernail. "That's a third of your calculated calorie intake for the day. You won't be able to do your best fucking work and keep your body fit if you don't eat it." 

Daryl wasn't sure what that meant and he didn't care. Although he really wanted to have a fit body.

"And we do not waste food here." Negan took the bread from Daryl's plate and held it out.

Daryl nestled with the fabric of his turquoise tunic, staring at the mosaic at the nearest wall. It showed no real picture, but a very nice pattern, that looked a little like the branches of the big knobby oaks at home. After a minute he grabbed the offered food without looking. His skin felt hot when he did it and he turned his back to Jesus, eating with his eyes to the wall.

Negan watched, satisfied, not commenting on the rather rude behavior. Instead he started a conversation with the others about the new training schedule for the Infantry.

\----

Eugene Porter was the Empire's commissary chief eunuch and he had traveled all the way across the country to the capital just to greet the Sanctuary's new chamberlain and bid him welcome in the coterie of the gelded. 

Daryl glared at the plump man and the smudges of red blush he wore on his chubby cheeks, after listening for an hour to his detailed deliberations about the life of castrated men in the new world and all the advantages and protections they enjoyed.

"I don't know if you are familiar with our monthly publication." Eugene pulled a colorful edition of the newest 'BALLZZ' magazine out of his hand-woven satchel. It had him on the cover in all his grandeur and stateliness, just like the past three issues. "Page 18 to 37 is an abstract of my biography. You can purchase it for 42 points with this voucher." He handed Daryl a lilac slip of paper, saying _'From Creampuff to Stallion - How I found my inner testicles -  by Dr. Eugene Porter'_ . "If you have any questions or autograph requests, you find a postal address on the back." He offered Daryl a loose handshake, showing off his newest nail polish, matching his gown, and left the big palace complex for a cup of spice tea at the local teahouse, before his departure.

"Well that was... informative?" Jesus hopped off the cheffonier he had been sitting on while trying his best not to fall asleep. He grabbed the magazine and voucher, stuffed it in the top drawer of the dresser and shoved Daryl out of the room. "I mean who would have thought they have their own softball team, right?" 

The way through the maze of endless corridors was still as confusing as it had been the first time and Daryl didn't feel that he recognized anything familiar for better orientation. At least until they reached the very big, massive door where he had been brought to to be presented to the emperor. It was guarded by a different person this time, and they didn't go inside but Jesus pointed at it, "That's the audience room, you saw it already." and then went to the next door to knock at it, wait a moment, and then pull it open. "This is his study. It is the first of his private rooms. You can enter it at any time."

Daryl looked around. It wasn't what he had expected. It wasn't gold and full of velvet and peacock birds like the rest of the palace. It was rather dark, with a huge wooden desk in the middle and heavy carpets. A fire place at one side and a few leather chairs and cabinets at the other. 

"It leads to the inner chambers." Jesus knocked at another door, waited a moment and lowered his gaze when he opened it. "You need to enter respectfully here. Quietly with your head down. You greet him only if he had sent for you or if he approaches you directly." He went into the room and lowered down to the ground in a graceful motion, right next to the door. "If not, you do this and just wait for a command." He looked up, smiling. "Try. It's really easy. Like waiting for your tea to get ready."

Daryl didn't want to try. He fumbled with his tunic, looking uneasily around in the huge room. It had a large four-poster bed made of black wood with a leather headpiece, and the rest of the room matched it perfectly. The black vanity with mirror, the armchairs, the cabinets and dressers, even the fireplace. Everything was massive and black, except for a few golden details, the empire's emblem and paintings of horses. The windows and balcony doors were broad and high, letting a lot of light into the room.  

Jesus rose to his feet again, pointing in different directions as he went through the room. "This way is his wardrobe. This way is his bathroom. And he keeps his weapons in here." He opened a large cabinet and closed it again right away, before opening the balcony doors. "Down there is the military training ground and the barracks and stables." He wagged his eyebrows when Daryl stepped next to him. "He likes to have an eye on his boys." 

Daryl looked down at the countless buildings and three groups of men in uniform marching soundly through a gigantic yard. And he really wondered if the Governor had known of this undeniable superiority. And if so, why he had ever sent any Alexandrian men into a hopeless battle with this powerful army, considering that he had always stayed back home. 

"So!" Paul clapped his hands once, then rubbed them enthusiastically. "Let's start with the training!" 

\----

As an imperial chamberlain at the Sanctuary, one had to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, characteristics that played right into Daryl's hands. Gracefulness on the other hand wasn't one of his strengths. He also found it rather difficult to prepare the bed the way Jesus showed him, to take care of the emperor's clothing and armor, to carry trays and kneel down and get up again in one swift movement. He was taught how to prepare the bathroom for the emperor's ablutions and Jesus tried to teach him the process of disrobing.

In between, they left the private west wing of the palace to go back to the meal place, because it was time for lunch. Daryl received a new tray with different food and he ate it after 14 minutes of inner battle, because it really smelled good, his stomach rumbled, and he wanted a fit body very badly. It was rice with different vegetables and lentils, and this time the emperor came as well to share a meal with the servant people and soldiers, but he sat at the other end of the room and no matter how much Daryl craned his neck, he couldn't really see him.

After lunch the training seemed to go on forever and Daryl grew frustrated with himself and the tasks he was given. He just couldn't memorize certain things and didn't understand the necessity of others. He couldn't even properly dress himself with all the fine gowns and jewelry, how was he supposed to dress somebody else? And after the 11th attempt to carry a full tray through the room without dropping anything, he growled and almost threw it against the wall, when the glass fell again to the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces. 

Jesus smiled, picking the shards up. "Did you not serve your former owner?"

Daryl shrugged angrily. He hadn't been allowed to touch any of the Governor's belongings. It was his job to entertain guests and be of good use in bed.

"Maybe it's best if we do a break."

\----

The fountain yard wasn't occupied in the late afternoon because all the ladies were at the auditorium for one of Hershel's lectures and Jesus used the opportunity to claim his favorite couch near the fish pond, the one with the really thick, dark blue cushions.

"Kal worked here for years." He tilted his head to the side, braiding small golden rings into Daryl's hair. "He had already been the chamberlain for Negan's predecessors, you know. But now he wants to marry and move to Alaska." He wasn't sure if it was really Alaska, but it sounded kind of right. "That's why it is good that you came."

Daryl liked sitting between Paul's legs and the gentle fingers combing through his hair. It reminded him a bit of Denise. He also liked the giant red and black goldfish clinging to the bottom of the pond with their metallic glinting scales and big eyes. He wanted to touch one.

"Maybe if you decide to stay, you could work here forever and we start a secret club for badass guys who enjoy to wear pretty things and eyeliner."

Daryl squinted and turned around, giving the beautiful servant a lopsided smirk.

"What? I am totally badass." Jesus swore, adorning Daryl's hair with a last tiny golden ring . "But in style."

\----

Fit body or not, Daryl didn't eat the food on his silver tray for dinner, because it was a big chunk of roasted baby-meat laying on a small heap of potatoes. And it made him angry and sad that Jesus and all the other people sitting along the long rugs ate it with big smiles on their faces. 

After dinner he felt homesick and quietly followed Jesus to the private west wing of the palace, their jewelry gently jingling through the endless hallways.

The stout guard with the battleaxe stood now in front of the emperor's study and didn't say anything when they just entered without asking.   

"He is here now." Jesus whispered as they crossed the dimly lit room. "Just remember what I told you." He gestured for Daryl to lower his gaze and knocked at the door to the emperor's bedroom, opening after exact 5 seconds. 

Daryl stared down at his feet, feeling nauseous. The eunuch emperor really was in the room this time and he wasn't alone. There were two other men and they stood all near the balcony doors with their arms crossed, talking about military things. He didn't remember what he was supposed to do, his mind blank, and after a minute just awkwardly crouched down on the floor when Jesus tugged his tunic. Then they both knelt on the ground for a little eternity, doing nothing. Daryl even tried not to listen, feeling like an intruder. But the emperor didn't seem to mind that others were able to listen to the conversation. He didn't even seem to realize that someone had entered the room, or he just ignored it.

After a while Daryl's nose started to tickle and he wiggled it, then reached up to scratch it and brush a strand of hair from his face, but his fingertips collided with the jewelry dangling into his forehead and it made a faint jingling noise, consonant with the clinking bangles on his wrist. He held his breath, heat making his face flush when all three men looked in his direction. His eyes flickered nervously up and down, before he shut them.

He heard one of the men chuckle and three pairs of heavy boots walk out of the room. Then one pair returned and the door was closed. 

"How's the training going." Negan held a hand out, sounding tired.

"My Lord." Jesus kissed it. "We wanted to assist you to apply what he's learned today."

"Mhm." Negan offered his hand to Daryl as well, squinting one eye when nothing but warm breath was huffed against his ring. He shook his head, pinching the man's cheek twice, before he walked off towards his bathroom. "Wine would be great."

Jesus smirked and got up, gesturing for Daryl to do the same. "I'll help you." A carafe with red wine stood on a sidetable along with empty glasses. He filled one and put it on a tray, together with a small plate of stuffed dates and candied pecans, then handed it to Daryl. "Just take it to him and wait until he took it."

The small plate wobbled soundly and a candied pecan rolled across the silver tray when Daryl carried it through the room with trembling fingers. He stared at the filled glass, daring it to stay upright and felt like he would have to puke when the tall eunuch emperor came back out of the bathroom, looking sweaty and dirty in his leather armor. Other than in the morning, he wore black kohl around his eyes now and his hair wasn't ruffled but slicked back neatly. Daryl stared at him, exhaled as his stomach clenched nervously and then couldn't react fast enough when the pecan rolled off the tray and the wine glass tipped over. 

Negan could. He caught the candied nut with his right hand and grabbed the glass with the left, giving Daryl not more than a casual smile. "Thank you." He popped the pecan into his mouth and sat down in one of the arm chairs, sipping his wine. He stretched his legs out and tapped the heel of his right boot on the floor.

Jesus took the tray from Daryl's hands, whispering into his ear. "Kneel down and take his boots off like I showed you. Start with the right."  

Daryl wanted to cry and run out. He really didn't want to be a royal chamberlain anymore. Maybe the Kal-person had been a superhero, but he was just a normal bedroom servant and not good at wine serving and disrobing. But Jesus gave him an encouraging smile and a small push forward, so he knelt down. And then realized that he was too far away from the chair, so he slid closer on his knees and then crawled the last bit, quickly dropping his gaze when he saw the eunuch emperor smirking at him, rolling the handle of the glass between his fingers.

The day had been long and stressful, but Negan had to admit the evening was very much to his liking. The pretty new guy was a refreshing addition to his inner circle of servants and a pleasure to watch. Clumsy fingers trembling on the dusty leather of his boots. Shy but curious eyes stealing glimpses at bare legs. And a beautiful face, much paler than it was common for anyone living in the empire, exposing him as the whore he had been until now, locked away from the world, indoors, for just one purpose.  
He took another sip of his wine, spreading his legs just an inch more when the first boot was finally taken off and Daryl picked the other foot up to place it in his lap and start to untie the lacing.

Oh, he would enjoy seeing this one grow and flourish. 

"You take them over there. Somebody will clean them later." Jesus lowered gracefully down next to Daryl, speaking in a low tone. "When you're done with your task you just wait in respectful position for his next command."  

Daryl couldn't think straight. His heart was hammering in his chest and his hands felt sweaty. He had never touched another person's shoes on purpose, and never seen real warrior boots from such a close distance. They were heavy and dirty and smelled like leather. Underneath were muscular calves with dark hair and warm skin. For a second he accidentally glanced up when the emperor shifted in his chair, and his mouth got a little dry, seeing bare thighs, slightly spread underneath the strange skirt of his black leather armor. He could smell the man' s scent and in his confusion hugged the leather boot nervously to his chest, until Jesus whispered to him that he was supposed to put it into the wardrobe-room. 

He got up, holding on to the emperor's legs by mistake even though that was strictly forbidden and could feel heat rise up his throat, towards his face and ears as he walked to the closet door. 

When he came back, the eunuch emperor watched him with the faintest smile, taking a long sip from his wine and then handed the empty glass to Jesus before he got up. Slowly. He didn't say anything, but Jesus explained in a subtle gesture that the emperor wanted to have his armor taken off.

Daryl went closer, tensing up more with every step. He didn't look up and didn't move, standing in front of the tall man with clenched fists.

"My Lord. With your permission." Jesus stepped close behind Daryl, reaching around him to unfasten the outer buckle on Negan's chest armor, whispering against Daryl's tense shoulder. "You open this first. Underneath you loosen the lacing." He showed what he meant and then stopped when his student's hesitant fingers followed. 

A hint of tanned skin and dark chest hair got visible between the firm leather parts, in the middle of a broad chest. Jesus caught Daryl's curious looks, correcting him instantly. "Don't stare, just concentrate on your chore."

Negan didn't say anything, just watched the fascinating mixture of defiance, fear and insecurity displayed right in front of his nose. He tipped his head to the side, taking in all the pretty details and sweet scent of well groomed hair and skin.

"Then the arm protectors." Paul whispered, his lips brushing the thin fabric of a turquoise tunic. "You unlace them on the inner sides." He demonstrated it on the right arm and did the start on the left, but let Daryl do the rest. "Then you slip them off."

Daryl did and briefly glanced up through his longish bangs, meeting the soft stare out of dark eyes, black kohl all around, making them even more intense. He let his head drop instantly, just as the piece of armor he held in his hand. It fell to the floor and Paul touched him gently by the small of his back.

"Don't worry. You apologize and just pick it up."

Negan bit back a smirk when a head bumped hard into his stomach and a totally unsettled young man tried to crouch down somehow to pick his left arm protector up.

Jesus made a step back, tugging Daryl's tunic as he whispered against his neck. "Mikey, you need to apologize." 

Daryl's chin started to tremble, his fingernails digging into his palms. He didn't look up and didn't say anything. And when Paul tugged his tunic again he grunted and shoved his elbow backwards, hitting the man's ribcage. He pushed the eunuch emperor as well, but didn't exactly know where he hit him because he had his eyes squeezed shut.

Jesus gasped, seeing a hand box half-heartedly against a loosened chest armor. "My Lord, I'm sorry, Michael is-"

Negan raised a hand, his face serious. "Paul. Leave us alone for a moment." 

"Negan." Paul panicked slightly, stepping protectively next to his student. "It was my fault, I didn't give him enough time and didn't explain-"

Negan arched his brows at Jesus. "Go. To your room. I'll send him in a bit."   

Jesus lowered his gaze, "As you wish, Sir." and left, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Negan sighed, unbuckling the leather strap he wore around his right upper arm. He put it onto his vanity and started on his chest armor, unfastening it all the way down. "Are you able to speak?"

Daryl knew he was trapped and would get punished severely. He knew he couldn't just run away, the guard with the battleaxe would certainly cut him in half if he tried. And if he would jump off the balcony and survive the impact, the huge army would kill him in an instant. So he didn't try to flee, just went to the nearest wall for cover, almost touching it with the tip of his nose, wishing he could somehow coalesce with pattern of the pretty, dark wallpaper. 

"The Doc told me he couldn't find any damage." Negan slipped out of his armor, flung it onto an armchair and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. "So, did you ever speak, or not?" 

Daryl clawed his fingernails into the wall, irritated by the casual tone and all the questions. He heard water running, smelled soap, heard splashing and then sensed somebody entering the room again, stepping close behind him. He held his breath.

"Answer my question. Are you able to speak."

Daryl pondered his options for 12 seconds before he nodded. He knew he had talked to people, some years ago.

"Your owner didn't want you to?" Negan was pretty sure he knew the answer, having vast experience with abused slaves and their so called Masters. He waited patiently for another nod before he made a generous step back to grant a little bit more space. "Turn around." His order was followed without much resistance. "Look at me."

Daryl didn't want to. He could see the strange black leather skirt the emperor wore, but the man's stomach was bare now, the chest armor gone. He was certainly supposed to do his job now.

"Look. at me."  

He did, feeling scared and little, facing the tall, broad frame of a half naked man. The face paint was gone, the sweat and dirt too, replaced by slightly damp skin and the clean smell of soap.

Negan propped a hand against the wall, next to the man's head, leaning in close with firm eye contact. "I told you already, you are no slave here. But as long as you live in my house, you fucking answer to me. You are not in Alexandria anymore. You are not with your owner. He is gone. You are here. And here I am the leader. I am the one in charge. And I want you to use your voice and talk to me. Do you understand that."

The wall was cold in Daryl's back. He pulled his shoulders up, trying to make himself smaller in the overpowering presence of the emperor and his deep, stern tone. He nodded and then flinched, squeezing his eyes shut when Negan raised his voice.

"SPEAK!"

A sound similar to a hiss escaped Daryl's throat. It was hoarse and weak and he dropped his head instantly. Maybe he lied, maybe he was wrong and he couldn't speak anymore.

But the emperor didn't seem angry. "You said yes. Do it again." 

Daryl inhaled, held his breath a moment and then tried once more. It sounded better this time, like a 'Yes' just without tone. As if somebody had drained the sound out of his voice.   

"Good." Negan pushed off the wall. "You dropped my armor and fucking hit me. You will apologize and prepare my bed, then you may go back to Paul." He went into his closet-room putting the rest of his armor off and instead dressed into a simple black, long tunic, cut deep in the front, halfway down his chest. When he came back into his bedroom, Daryl tried his best to fold the blanket back and arrange the pillows as he had learned it, crying quietly while he did it. Once he stopped in between to wipe his wet eyes into the sleeve of his gown, smearing his blue eyeliner, before he fluffed up another pillow and then in a defeated gesture walked around the bed, lifted his tunic and bent over the bottom end of the mattress, offering his behind for punishment, because he was sorry.

Negan's jaw set, his expression hardening. He walked up to his bed, giving the man's bare backside a quick once-over. He registered the pale, trembling legs, pink belt marks peeking out from underneath a teal tunic, and the _B_ engraved in the silver base of a solid plug. He didn't comment on any of it, but went to his vanity and squeezed a bit of translucent gel onto his fingers. Then went back and ignored the startled gasp and fearful little whimper when he spread it around the man's stretched entrance. "That's not how apologies work in the new world, boy." He twisted the silver plug carefully out of the man's butt and soothed the painful throbbing with firm pressure against the protesting muscle. "And I don't want you to wear this as long as you are here." He continued his massage for another moment, then pulled Daryl's tunic down, patting his thigh. "Get up."  

Daryl buried his face into the thick bedding, not sure what just happened. He wasn't beaten, he wasn't used for anal service and his placeholder wasn't put back into his butt. Shame and guilt crawled through his body. He was dismissed. His robe was pulled back down. The emperor didn't accept his apology and didn't want his service.  
He stood back up, feeling ill and embarrassed to the core, not sure where to look at. He chose his feet, unadorned, without any ankle chains or toe rings.   

Negan brought the plug into the bathroom, flung it into the trash, washed his hands and felt his tense jaw muscles soften when he came back and saw the picture of pure misery standing in front of his bed. He finished wiping his hands and threw the small towel somewhere to the right. "Things are different here. You will get used to it." He lifted Daryl's head with two fingers underneath his chin. "If I ask you to apologize I expect you to do it by showing your regret and the respect I deserve. Not your pretty butt crack. We don't hurt the weak here. I am a man. Men do not use the defenseless for their pleasure. Only an idiot would do that." He studied the pale face with slightly red nose and smeared, blue paint around damp eyes, and offered a small smile. "You accidentally dropped your leader's armor and fucking hit him on purpose. Say, I'm sorry my Lord." The defeated expression in blue eyes got instantly supplanted by a defiant glint. He liked it. It increased his smile and changed its meaning. 

Daryl wanted to growl and hit the emperor again. But Denise had taught him better manners, so he didn't. Instead he tried to form the words he was supposed to say. Starting three times and in the end avoided his eyes and croaked a hoarse apology with cracking voice. "'m sorry." 

Negan's tongue peeked as he wetted just the edge of his upper lip, nodding. His smile vanished, dark eyes scanning the smooth features appraisingly. "Tell Jesus to give you a book. Read out loud to him. It will improve your voice." He released the man's chin and made a step back, holding his hand out, palm facing downwards. "Bid good night."

Daryl pulled his left shoulder up, glancing at the emperor's serious face and then down at the big hand offered to him. He knew by now he was supposed to kiss it. He didn't want to, sure that all the Alexandrians would hate him and exile him from the communities of insurgents if they should ever find out. But just as the day before, the emperor was very persistent. So he crouched down somehow and leaned a bit closer, staring at the broad back of the man's hand, covered in fine dark hair, veins standing out, long fingers with strong, cut nails, and a golden ring with a teal gem. Almost the color of his tunic. He leaned in and huffed a small, shuddered breath against it, able to smell the scent of recently used soap. He couldn't kiss it. Instead he lowered his gaze and touched his adorned forehead against the emperor's wrist. Just briefly before he shut his eyes, whispering an almost inaudible, very hoarse "Good night."

Negan looked down, caressing the man's temple with the back of his thumb, "First days are always hard. You did good. Tomorrow will be even better." then brushed a strand of soft, shiny hair behind his ear. "Go to bed now. Tell my guard to show you the way."

Daryl nodded and got up, trying not to look anywhere as he went to the door.

Negan watched him leave, "Sst." and didn't smile when the young man turned around a last time. "Philip wasn't a man. He was an idiot."

\----

At night, in his big bed of pillows and cushions, listening to the distant babbling of the fountain and the rustling of big birds moving in their cage, Daryl felt sad and lonely. Like a stranger. And he wondered if any of the surviving Alexandrians thought of him. If any of them missed him. If any of them even knew his name, or would bother to give him one. He wondered if Denise would be angry with him for sleeping in the big palace of the enemy and helping the emperor to take his warrior boots off. He wondered if he was a bad person. He wondered if Mister Blake was one too.

"Mikey?" Jesus whispered, sitting up in his big bed with sleepy eyes and tousled hair. "Was he very angry?"

Daryl didn't sit up but he shook his head in the dark. And then, after a minute of silence rolled onto his side, snuggling deeper into his velvet pillows, and used his voice, even though it sounded very unappealing. "No."

 

 


	7. Prospect

It had been a bad night, full of disturbing dreams.  
  
Denise crying, because her eye and her head hurt so much. Eric trying to run away, but couldn't because one of his legs was missing. Everything on fire, even the bathtub and the knobby oaks in the park. And a beautiful bedroom servant and a tall eunuch emperor smiling and laughing while they ate a chubby baby. It was roasted and lay on a silver tray with crisp, brown skin and a coating of herbs and spices.    
  
Daryl woke up sweaty and confused, his eyes wet and his mouth dry. And he just ran away, out of the room, through the fountain yard, along all the endless hallways, down shiny marble stairs, until he finally found the big, guarded palace doors. The soldiers standing left and right didn't even blink as he ran past them, and the elderly woman outside just greeted him with a friendly 'Salam', but didn't try to stop him. The heavily armed guards at the end of the white street did, and denied him the use of the big black iron gate. They didn't say a reason and Daryl didn't ask, he just went back, because he didn't have any weapons to fight them. He didn't have shoes, either, his jewelry, or a tidy tunic. His was crinkled and damp with sweat. His hair was unkempt and there wasn't any paint on his face. Even the silver placeholder was gone.  
  
He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and stared down at his slightly dirty feet as he made his way along neat ways and paths, through the park-like area surrounding the Sanctuary. There weren't many people around at barely sunrise and he thought maybe he could find another way out or climb over the high, black iron fence when the guards went to breakfast or had to pee. So he didn't go back inside the palace and instead turned left to find a place to hide, before the beautiful bedroom servant woke up and would come to look for him.  
  
He walked close to a long building and peeked around the corner, seeing the barrack yards. All the surrounding buildings were guarded and two men in black uniform, carrying their helmets underneath their arms and weapons over their shoulders, came in his direction. He held his breath and closed his eyes, pressing his back against the wall, and then just ran through the first entry he found. A broad, black wooden door with a thin, red frame. He shut it quietly and found himself in the half dark and the comforting smell of hay and warm wood panelling. It was a large barn with countless individual stalls on each side. The stables of the cavalry horses. He had always liked the stables in Alexandria, even though he was never allowed to go inside. But he had watched the horses and hay deliveries from his window and liked the smell and all the noises.  
  
He walked along the stalls, the concrete floor feeling cool and smooth underneath his bare feet. Most of the horses were brown, some grey, some white, but all were big and beautiful, well groomed and muscular. The one in box 23 was a mixture of grey and white. It looked up from its feed and briefly stopped chewing as it saw the unfamiliar face, but after a moment of consideration went back to its food. Daryl wondered if he could steal it and flee with it out of town and out of the empire to hide in the woods until he would find other survivors of the Alexandrian bombing, or maybe Lieutenant Grimes and his troops. He could feed it with the berries the others had talked about and give it water from the river.They could be friends.  
  
He reached a hand out through the bars in an attempt to touch it, and then flinched startled, his head snapping around, when he heard voices right in front of the stable doors. He looked around in panic and ran a few steps to the left, before he pushed a random stall door open and slipped in, horrified by the huge black horse he found inside. He tried not to breathe, making himself as flat as possible against the wall.

People entered the stables. They talked about the veterinarian and a mare needing new shoes. Then somebody walked by with a wheel barrow and a horse was taken out of its stall, its hooves clicking on the concrete floor as it was brought outside.

Daryl stayed perfectly still until he was sure that the men had left, and then crept along the wall and slowly sat down in the corner, on the straw covered ground, pulling his legs close to his chest. He hugged his knees and stared at the large, silky black animal, which seemed to be more than aware of its unannounced guest.  
  
It stared back at him with big, dark eyes, a black forelock falling into its face as it nibbled some oats, puffs of moisture coming from its nostrils.    
  
For a moment, Daryl wasn't sure whether it would attack him. But even after five minutes nothing happened and it just kept eating. It also smelled kind of nice, warm and like hay. Maybe this one would make an even better friend for his escape. It looked like it was very fast and could jump over the iron fence. He would just wait until night.  
  
\----  
  
A deep chuckle rumbled from Negan's throat as he entered the stables in the late afternoon and found a curled-up man in the back of Lucille's horsebox. Sound asleep, some pieces of straw in his hair and an oat flake sticking to the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Well, well, well. What do we have here."  
  
He hadn't been worried too much when the searchparty failed to find the missing servant all day long, sure he was just taking a timeout somewhere. But now that he knew where the little shit had been hiding, he had to admit he was kind of impressed, since Lucille usually made mincemeat out of every unsolicited person coming near her. "Good girl." He gave her a pat on the neck and moved her a bit to the side as he went up to the sleeping bundle on the ground. "Look at that. Pretty peacock built himself a cozy little nest." He bent down to pull a wheat straw out of tousled hair and then nudged the man with his boot. "Hey."  
  
Daryl jerked awake, bumped his head first against a solid shoe and then the wooden wall behind him, gasping startled.  
  
"Easy." Negan put a foot on the man's chest. "Don't fucking kill yourself." Big blue eyes stared up at him in fear and confusion. "Salam, cadet. Do you realize that my whole fucking empire is out looking for your unreliable ass?" He took his boot off and made a step back. "Get up."  
  
Daryl froze for a second and then hastily flipped around, trying to crawl past the tall man crowding him.  
  
Negan snorted in amusement, "Yeah, right." catching the absconder with a simple move of his leg, blocking the way. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dragging him to his feet. "She weighs 1600 pounds and will crush you like a fucking bug if you crawl around like that."  
  
Daryl grunted and squirmed, wanting to say that he was friends with the horse and it wouldn't hurt him, but then he just glared at a certain spot on the wall and didn't say anything because it was his secret.  
  
Negan studied the angry man in his hold, then released him with an ungentle push. "Out."  
  
Daryl stumbled a step forward, clenching his jaw with a slight growl that almost sounded annoyed and was instantly reprimanded by an even louder command.  
  
"OUT I SAID!"  
  
He exhaled a frustrated breath through his nose and left the horsebox and all his wonderful plans of escape and a new life in the woods, kicking a bit of dry straw lying on the concrete floor.  
  
"Sir, do you need help?" A guy carrying a bucket gave first Daryl a wary glance and then his obviously angry leader. "Should I get a guard?"  
  
"No." Negan grabbed a black leather bridle from the hook and put it on his horse, leading it out of the box. "Bring him some grooming supplies. He just volunteered to fucking assist me."  
  
\----  
  
Maybe the big black horse wasn't such good friends with the Sanctuary's new chamberlain after all. It crowded its new handler's space, nostrils flared, prancing and jigging, not seeming interested in being groomed or standing still.  
  
Daryl sighed in frustration when the huge animal pushed him once more out of the way, moving sideways with its broad back. He almost lost his balance and the brush fell to the floor.  
  
Negan smirked, pretty sure he heard something like a 'silly horse', quietly muttered by a croaky voice. He went up to his horse, patting the side of its neck while pressing his own chest against the animal's front, making his dominance known. "Her name is Lucille. She can sense your fear, it makes her fucking anxious."     
  
Daryl glared at the emperor, not sure why he couldn't get one of the stable boys to clean the damn horse. After all he was just a bedroom servant. "'m a servant." His voice cracked once when he said it and it sounded like he would suffer from a very sore throat, but he really didn't care. His feet were cold, he was hungry and upset, and he felt very embarrassed whenever one of the awesome soldiers walked by, because he looked so dirty and untidy, with his unkempt hair and without all of his jewelry.  
  
"Funny." Negan grabbed a brush and moved it in strong sweeping strokes along the black coat. "That's what I thought this morning when I waited for you to come and do your fucking job. But guess what-" He glanced back over his shoulder, arching his brows at the guilty face he found. "I had to do it all myself and was twenty fucking minutes late for a very important meeting!" He went back to brushing, shrugging his shoulders. "Will the new city in the east get their water pumps in time now? Who the fuck knows! Did thirty of my soldiers waste six hours of their time to search your selfish ass instead of investing it in fucking training? Yes they fucking did! But the most important thing is that you enjoyed your little time out." He glanced back over his shoulder again. "Servant."  
  
Daryl wrinkled his nose underneath his tousled hair, grimacing at all the accusations. Mister Blake had never talked so much with him.  
  
Negan sighed, making a step to the side. "Come here. Fucking learn." He pulled the young man closer, between himself and the horse, making him hold the brush. "You follow the direction of the hair growth." He guided Daryl's hand for a few strokes, then let him try one alone. "Use some pressure, she likes that."    
  
Daryl tensed, holding his breath. The emperor stood very close. He could smell his skin and feel his leather clad chest through the thin fabric of the tunic.  
  
"You have to stand your ground and claim your space." Negan put the man's other hand firmly on the mare's high back. "If you lack confidence you signal her that there's a reason to be scared." He forced naked feet into a wider stance with his boot. "And next time you enter the stables, you have fucking shoes on your feet. I have no use for servants with fractured toes." He heard a huffed sigh and leaned in close to speak right next to the man's ear. "The correct answer is, 'Yes, Sir.'"  
  
Daryl pulled his left shoulder up when he felt warm breath on his neck, offering a faint nod. "Hm."  
  
"What!"  
  
He tucked his chin in, mumbling a hoarse answer. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"Mhm. Stand your fucking ground I said." Negan made a step back. "Chest out, shoulders back." He corrected the hunched posture with a firm touch of his hand, "Better. Now keep brushing." and grabbed an apple out of a bucket, taking a big bite as he leaned back against the wall to watch his order being executed.  
  
\----  
  
It took Daryl 52 minutes to groom all of the black, silky coat to the emperor's satisfaction. His arms hurt in the end and he wished Denise could come to scold the tall, loud eunuch for letting him do such hard, exhausting work.  
  
"Looks good!"  
  
He stumbled a step forward when a big hand patted his back rewardingly.  
  
"Grab yourself an apple and bring her out." Negan waved two fingers and left the stables to have a word with one of his generals.  
  
Daryl watched the man leave and then looked up at the huge horse, not sure if he had understood the command right.  
  
"Chop, chop, cadet!"  
  
He blinked through the ruffled bangs falling into his face, quickly took an apple out of the bucket because the emperor had said so and he was really very hungry, and unsnapped the spring hook securing the mare's rein to the wall. He made two steps, tugging the reins timidly, whispering a small 'come horse', but nothing happened. He pulled a bit more, then held the apple in front of a big black nose.  
  
Negan stood in the yard, his arms crossed in front of his chest, nodding to something Simon said, and watched through the open stable doors how his horse was bribed to move its legs. The tinge of a smile tried to curl his lips for the split of a second before he bit it back and gave calm, clear instructions. "Relax your hand on the lead! Walk upright, chin up! Give her a reason to follow you!"  
  
Daryl exhaled a nervous sigh, seeing the eunuch emperor at the doors, and straightened his back, holding his head a bit higher. He kept his eyes on the exit and just walked, his heart thumping in excitement when he heard the clicking of hooves on concrete. The horse really followed him. If Denise could have seen him now, she would have been certainly very proud.  
  
"See?" Negan gave an encouraging nod. "She doesn't follow fucking treats. She follows awesome people." He knew of course that Lucille had seen him standing in the door and that was the main reason why she had bothered to move, but boosting people's self-esteem was his special skill, so he did just that, reveling in the proud expression on the young man's face. "Now hold her for me and eat your apple until I'm done." He turned back to Simon and his report about the last patrol.  
  
Daryl puffed his chest out, feeling as if he had just discovered ten new muscles on his body, standing there barefoot in the yard, next to the big cavalry horse. Almost like a real soldier. He took a bite of his apple and watched two men in uniform walking by, saluting the emperor before they greeted him with a polite 'Salam'.  
  
He had almost said it back, but then didn't because they were enemies and he had his mouth full. But he wanted to say it, a little bit.  
  
"So, what do you say, should we step in?" Simon gave the new stable boy in crinkled tunic and tousled hair a side glance, finding him kind of amusing.  
  
"No. Just keep an eye on it." Negan gave Lucille's neck a pat, walking around her. "Let them try to find a solution on their own." Standing by the horse's side, he laid the reins out the way he needed them, grabbed a loop and bit of mane, took a big step out and swung his leg up, vaulting onto the 17.3 hands horse without any difficulties. "No need to interfere right now."    
  
"Alright, then we'll stand back and watch." Simon patted his commander's horse, then tipped his invisible hat in a farewell and left to see if sergeant Ford still had something distilled to share for the evening hours.  
  
Daryl forgot to chew his apple, staring up at the tall man on the even taller horse. He had never seen somebody mounting a horse without saddle, or sitting on horseback without pants.  
  
"Do you know how to ride?" Negan arched his brows at his servant's stunned expression.  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded because he didn't want to appear stupid, but then changed his mind and quickly shook his head, avoiding his eyes when he saw bare, muscular thighs flexing against the black horse coat. He really didn't know why the emperor's armor had a skirt instead of pants.  
  
Negan chuckled, pulled the reins through his fingers and held them with one hand, as he gave a short, brisk squeeze with his legs, getting his horse to move. "Walk with me then. We need to talk." He reached down to cup a protective hand around the back of the man's head when he briefly bumped into the horse in his confusion, and then kept his arm down without touching, just holding it in a secure gesture close to Daryl's head. "Tell me, why do you hate it here so fucking much that you want to leave town."  
  
Daryl glanced up, walking uneasily next to the horse. He shrugged, nibbling his apple core.  
  
"Weather not to your liking? Bed uncomfortable?" Negan went to the right, leaving the barrack yards towards the Sanctuary's back area. "What the fuck is it."  
  
A million reasons popped into Daryl's head, from the burning houses of Alexandria to the breeding of humans here in the new world. But all he said was a barely audible, "You're the enemy." because that probably summed it all up.  
  
"Hm." Negan pursed his lips, nodding. "Well, you are not my enemy. What have I done to be yours?" He saluted a group of soldiers jogging by.  
  
Daryl scrunched up his nose, glaring at the green, juicy grass covering the way, feeling mocked.  
  
"Are you angry because I punished your people?" Negan touched the man's hair with his fingertips, gently guiding him along when the path got a bit narrower. "They cowardly slaughtered my men and took a defenseless baby. If you do bad things you get punished, that's how it works, right?"  
  
Daryl listened to the deep, calm voice telling him reasonable things, felt soft fingers on his head and noticed his stomach flutter weirdly whenever he accidentally bumped into the strong leg and heavy black leather boot hanging down the side of the huge horse. And he found it hard for a moment to hate the enemy. But then he thought of Denise and all the poor babies in the slaughterhouse and his belly hurt and clenched. It made him squint underneath his tousled bangs and he heard his own voice saying out loud what no other Alexandrian could anymore. "You killed Denise." It still sounded hoarse and kind of croaky, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable and he was a little bit proud of it. "'n you eat babies." He threw the apple core away and stopped walking, glaring at his bare feet.  
  
Negan stopped as well, "We do not allow environmental pollution in the new world." he waved two fingers at the piece of apple. "Pick that up please."  
  
A pang of guilt and heat shot instantly through Daryl's chest for doing something wrong. And he followed the request without hesitation, holding his gaze down in shame and then started walking again when he felt fingers at the back of his head and the horse moved next to him.  
  
"Thank you." There was a strictness in Negan's tone, going along with the authority his face held, but both got attenuated by the overall easiness in his body language, giving off comforting vibes. "Who is Denise. A soldier?"  
  
Hearing the name spoken by somebody else was strange and somehow consoling. "No." Daryl shook his head, taking the apple core up to nibble on it but then remembered that it had been on the ground. "'took care of me."  
  
Negan squinted, leaning down a bit, not sure if he had understood the quietly mumbled words correctly. "Denise took care of you in Alexandria?"  
  
Daryl nodded, feeling very sad because he missed her so much.  
  
"Did she guard you?"  
  
He shook his head again, raising his arm a bit to rub his arm pit, imitating the act of washing. "Cleanin' n my hair."  
  
The serious tone in the man's sad voice let Negan's eyes soften and a brief smile curved his lips. He nodded in sympathy, "She sounds like a nice lady." and turned left towards the green houses, putting a hand on his servant's head to safely guide him along. "But we don't kill women, and most definitely do we not kill servants. How did she die?"  
  
Daryl glanced up at the man sitting so far above him, looking like a true commander. He didn't say anything but he pointed at his eye and felt so relieved that he could share the horrific experience with someone.  
  
"She was shot in the head?" A notch formed between Negan's dark brows. He stopped his horse, seeming surprised. "Did you see how it happened?" His troops usually didn't carry guns, and the few soldiers that did, were instructed to only use them if absolutely necessary.  
  
Daryl shook his head, poking his eye again. "'was an arrow." He wanted to say it was one with feathers, but then he didn't because certainly all arrows had them.  
  
"A bolt." Negan corrected, putting his hand on the man's hair when he got Lucille to move again. He had sent only three archers to Alexandria and he couldn't imagine one of them shooting a female slave. But he would see into it, maybe it was an accident. "I am sorry for what happened to Denise. I will talk to my people and find out why she had to die." He decided to change the subject for now. "And we do not eat babies. That is one of the fucking rumors the insurgents broadcast among their residents to spread fear and hate." He pointed towards a huge wired-in area, full with light brown hens. "The only meat we consume in the entire empire is poultry and rabbit. It's high in protein and low in fucking fat. And the production is very environmentally friendly."     
  
Daryl looked around, seeing many barns and thousands of chickens picking in the short green grass between. He wasn't sure why the Governor would lie about eating babies, and it had been in the newspaper after all. He had also seen all the women with big bellies.  
  
Negan saw the skepticism in blue eyes. "You don't believe me?"    
  
Daryl shook his head and after seven seconds shrugged, because he really didn't know what to think.  
  
"Doubt is good." Negan nudged Lucille with his heel, taking her mind off the chickens and back to her task. "I encourage my people to think for themselves. Don't believe all the shit you hear unless you see proof."  
  
"'m not your people." It was a quiet retort and Daryl emphasized it by ducking his head when long fingers tried to guide him further to the right, in the direction of different buildings.  
  
Negan ignored it, gently pushing the man along. "Of course you are. As long as you're here in the empire, you are one of mine." He kept his voice calm and even, adoring the small wrinkle between perfectly groomed eyebrows when the man glared up at him in slight defiance. "Philip was your leader in Alexandria, I am your leader here. I provide protection and everything you need for your well being. In return you follow the fucking rules and listen to the man in charge." He glanced down. "Who is that, tell me."  
  
Daryl pointed a shy finger at the emperor's bare knee.  
  
Negan smirked. "Clever boy, that's exactly right. So no running away anymore. You do your job, you eat three times a day, you see Dr. Stookey whenever he asks you to, and if there's anything you are unhappy with, you let me know." He stopped in front of a large, white building, reaching down to grasp the man's chin. "Now you go in there and eat your dinner. Then you go to Jesus and ask him for a fucking bath and fresh clothing. In the morning I won't be there, so you are free to visit the auditorium. It's a good place to learn about our culture. Later you may come to my private rooms for evening duty."  
  
Daryl wrinkled his nose, uncomfortable with the firm eye contact.  
  
"Can you do that?"  
  
He nodded, because he could.  
  
"Good. Thank you for the talk." Negan released him and held his hand out with the palm facing downwards. "Say, have a nice ride, my Lord."  
  
Daryl peeked up at a serious face and then looked at the offered hand with the pretty ring and for a brief moment considered to kiss it. But then he didn't and just leaned in close, touching his forehead against the tight black leather, protecting the man's wrist. "'nice ride." Gentle fingers came down to the back of his head, stroking once through his hair.  
  
"A word of advice from your leader. Trust your gut. It usually knows what your head couldn't figure out yet." Negan picked a last small piece of hay out of his servant's ruffled hair. "It knows we are not monsters."  
  
\----  
  
Daryl didn't greet the nice lady at the entry of the canteen with 'Salam' but he told her that he had number 384-44, even though his voice cracked and sounded raspy. He received a silver tray with meat, something white and a salad made of raw carrots.

Meal time was almost over and most people were gone already. He sat down in a free spot and started eating. The white, spongy food and the carrots. Then he glanced at the other people, seeing them eating the meat. He put some on his fork and sniffed at it.  
  
"It is cooked rabbit." An elderly man with white hair and twinkling eyes smiled encouragingly at him. "It is good."  
  
Daryl didn't say anything back, but he smiled a tiny bit and ate the piece of meat. It didn't taste like baby and he didn't know if it tasted like rabbit, either, but it was good and nobody around him looked like a monster. His bare feet on the weird table-carpet looked dirty, though. Like he had been in the stable, doing real work for men. Maybe he even smelled a bit sweaty. He sniffed at his armpit, liking it very much and ate everything on his tray before he went back into the huge, shiny palace. Up the stairs, past the guards, through huge rooms and endless hallways, into the fountain yard. He ignored the giggling girls, glared at the parrot in the big golden cage when it cawed a loud 'Mikey' after him and then found the beautiful bedroom servant around the corner, in his room, performing some weird contortions in even weirder clothing.  
  
"Michael!" Jesus smiled brightly, bending so far backwards that his long hair touched the ground. "Where have you been?"  
  
\----  
  
When it got dark outside, Paul had walked around the room to light all the brass lanterns standing on the dressers and tables, even the two that hung overhead. They threw shadows on the walls and bathed everything into a soft, orange light, with black patterns and shapes.  
  
Daryl liked it. It looked so pretty, and even more beautiful whenever the candles flickered inside the lanterns. He stared up at the ceiling, enjoying the gentle hands spreading oil all over his body. His hair was still a little damp from the bath but Jesus didn't mind and let him lie on his bed anyway.  
  
"He had us set up camp in the middle of nowhere and everyone was frustrated and unsettled, you know." Jesus took a little bit more oil, rubbed it between his palms and then massaged it into Daryl's thigh. "Because we were out there for weeks already and everything we had heard about the northern communities was really scary stuff." He smiled when the man opened his legs wider to give better access, obviously liking the massage. "They still fought with automatic weapons and they used the dead as shields on the battlefield."    
  
Daryl tried to picture everything in his head. The troops marching in a long caravan through the country, with their weapons and horses and the tall, brave eunuch emperor in the front, leading them on his black horse. It was really exciting.    
  
"But then he made us all sit with him at the fire and he held one of his speeches. About overcoming fear and standing strong together and taking charge of our lives and the world." Paul rubbed the rest of oil around a pale bellybutton. "You know, he said how proud he is to be the leader of such courageous people and should he die in the upcoming battle it wouldn't matter because we are all Negan." He smirked, shifting on his ankles between Daryl's legs. "I swear, he made us all grow ten inches in height that night. We would have followed him through blazing fire and broken glass, right then and there without a minute of sleep." He chuckled, lying down next to Daryl, rolling onto his side. "He has a way with words and people."  
  
Daryl turned his head, looking at Jesus. "Did you win?"  
  
"We did." Jesus reached out to touch the man's lips, liking the rough, shy voice coming out between them. "And we made it all back home in one piece. The northern communities are a thriving part of the empire now. They have hospitals and schools and the biggest concert hall in the new world."  
  
Daryl smiled faintly, wondering what Alexandria would have been like with a real hospital and concert hall. And a Negan-leader instead of Mister Blake. He touched Paul's lips as well. And his beard, because he really wanted to know what it feels like. "Are you friends."  
  
"His Majesty and I?" Paul held very still, loving the clumsy fingers exploring his face. "I guess. He is like my father, my friend, my king, all in one, you know?" He smiled brightly. "He's my leader."  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded and a part of him felt excited and wanted to say, "Mine, too!" because that was what the emperor had told him today. He was Daryl's leader now. And maybe, one day they could be friends, too. Eunuch friends.  
  
"And... not to forget," Jesus wagged a mischievous eyebrow. "He has the most gorgeous dick in the entire empire."  
  
\----  
  
It was long after midnight when Negan went for the fourth time through the report about the attack at Alexandria and the list of civilian casualties. There were seventeen. One man killed in self-defense when he had tried to defend his home with a pitchfork, nine other men killed by the fire, five women as well, one child, 13 years old, and a female slave. Denise Cloyd, 34 years old, unarmed, shot in the eye with a crossbow. By Dwight.  
  
Negan had spoken to his other generals. To five soldiers. And everyone had confirmed the same. It hadn't been an accident. Dwight had shot her when she had bravely stepped outside to beg for the lives of her protégés.    
  
"When are you coming?" A young woman with long blonde hair stepped into the study, barefoot, wearing a filmy, red silk negligé. "Trisha and I are bored." She stepped next to Negan's chair, running a finger up his arm, onto his neck. "Can't you finish that tomorrow?"  
  
Negan dismissed her with a simple wave of his fingers, not even looking up.  
  
She pouted her lips but went back into the bedroom, knowing full well that he wouldn't have a problem to send her off for good and spend the night with Jesus instead. God, how much she hated that little, slutty dancer.  
  
"Amber."  
  
She turned around in the doorframe, her eyes lighting up. "Yes, my Lord?"  
  
"Close the door." Negan took a sip of his whiskey as the girl left and leaned back in his chair, staring at the papers on his desk. War crimes had no place in the new world. War criminals were punished with full stringency of the law. Publicly. That's how it was, that's how he wanted it.  
  
Even if it meant to lose one of his closest men.  
  



	8. My Lord

 

Daryl walked a bit more straddle-legged and tugged his crotch in fascination, on the way down the shiny marble stairs. He felt so pretty in his new pants. The only pants he had ever worn before were his pajama bottoms, but this morning, when he was dressed, Jesus had told him he would look more like a pants-person and had given him a pair of real pants to wear with his tunic. Long ones with a broad, low hanging waistband. They were made of fluttery, teal fabric flowing around his legs and butt in very loose pleats. If he kept his legs tightly together it would have looked like a long skirt. But he didn't keep them together.

"Stop tugging!" Jesus laughed when Daryl walked in a waddling gait, trying to keep his knees as far apart as possible, pulling the seam of his crotch every two steps as if he had to make sure it was still there.  

Daryl gave the pretty servant a confused side glance, not sure what he meant. Then made his back extra straight as they passed the guards at the main entry, wanting them to see his fantastic trousers.

"Salam." Jesus greeted them and the florist who was busy to decorate the huge flower pots at the front stairs as minimalist and ungirlishly as possible because that's how the emperor preferred it.  

The troops weren't jogging through the yard today, and Daryl was a bit disappointed that the emperor wouldn't see his pants, but the lady at the meal place did, even though she didn't say anything.

It was the same breakfast as the days before, flat bread, white cheese, and tea. Just the fruit jam was dark red today instead of orange. Daryl ate it, looking at the wall with the pretty mosaic because he didn't want the other people to talk to him. And the two questions the man with the big brown eyes asked, he answered with a silent shrug.

After breakfast, Jesus led the way to a different part of the palace, a big room with high ceilings and a long row of big windows overlooking the Sanctuary's palatial courtyard. It was filled with people, sitting and listening to a young man with curly blond hair, who stood in front of everyone, reading confidently from a paper folder.  
  
"That is why we have to make sure that everyone is educated." Ben glanced up at the class for the closing words of his presentation. "And not just at math and science. We need to teach them to share and to feel for others the way they feel for themselves. To think positive and do positive and to work for humanity and the environment. We need to teach them to be thankful for the chance of the new world."

Jesus clapped his hands along with all the others, as he made his way through the rows of seats towards two that weren't taken yet. "You can sit here, Mikey." He patted the cushion with a friendly smile, pulling his own feet up to sit cross-legged.

Daryl looked around uneasily, trying to make himself as small as possible when a man with long white tunic began to speak. "That is true, Benjamin." He had his hands behind his back and slowly walked up and down in front of the class. "Being free from greed, haughtiness and jealousy is a good start to ensure that the citizens of the new world won't have to face a new apocalypse." He gave his listeners a half-smirk that made his old eyes twinkle. "At least a man-made one."

Everyone chuckled and Daryl looked around, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, not sure what all this was about. The walls of the auditorium were decorated with a huge map, showing the whole world, and several charts and colorful pictures. The Empire's emblem in black and red was displayed along with the credo 'Unity is Strength', and across the length of the entire back wall stood a quote in twirly writing for everyone to see. He stared at it, unable to read the weird looking letters.

Hershel caught his new student's curious looks and read the words out loud. "A society that separates scholars from its warriors, will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools." He gestured at the quote, "Thucydides was a very smart man." and smiled at the shy man, who, judged by his outfit, clearly wasn't a soldier. "You are the young man from Alexandria."  
  
Daryl ducked his head, heat crawling over his face.  
  
"Welcome." Hershel had received a heads-up about their newest resident and Negan's wish to have him educated the same way as everybody else, but he hadn't expected someone as shy and bedizened since the insurgents usually tended to be a bit unrefined. "I hope you enjoy your time here. Did you have a chance to see our beautiful city yet?"  
  
"Mh." Daryl shook his head, avoiding his eyes. He really didn't want to talk to this man, especially not when everyone stared at him.  
  
"Well, you should. We have a great museum and the biggest library of the empire." Hershel saw how uncomfortable the young man was and decided to proceed with his lessons, granting him some time to acclimatize. "Good, let's hear another presentation." He gestured at one of his listeners. "Noah, what do you have prepared for us."  
  
\----    
  
After three hours of trying to be invisible and listening to the wisdom and declarations of one of the Empire's oldest citizens, Daryl wasn't sure if he wanted to return to the auditorium after lunch break. He felt kind of stupid, sitting between all these smart people, without being able to raise his hand and contribute some of his own ideas and thoughts, like they all did.  
  
"You know, Hershel was born in the old world." Jesus dipped a piece of yellow fruit into his mint yogurt and fed it to Daryl. "Ancient times, where most of their clothes were made of petroleum."  
  
"Hm." Daryl had never seen or eaten such a yellow fruit and he wasn't sure if he liked it.  
  
"And they colored their food." Jesus ate the rest himself, speaking with full cheeks. "Like they dyed their yogurt to make it more pretty."  
  
"Hm." Daryl sniffed at the yellow fruit from his own tray and gave it a lick. It was juicy.  
  
"It's mango." Siddiq offered. "We grow it in the greenhouses. It's my brother's favorite."  
  
Daryl heard what the man said but didn't know what to do with the information. He ate the fruit anyway. The whole piece at once and then three spoons of mint yogurt because he was really hungry.  
  
"You should eat a lot of it." Doctor Stookey sank down on the other side of the rug in a very agile move with crossed legs, putting his tray down. "Your blood test came back and you have severe nutritional deficiencies."  
  
Daryl looked up, mango juice dripping off his chin. He remembered the man from his first day at the Sanctuary.  
  
"I also got the okay for your hormone therapy. Why don't you come with me after lunch and we talk about it?" Bob mashed his fruit up with a fork and mixed it into his yogurt, smiling friendly. "We can start right away. It's just a small injection."  
  
"Don't worry." Paul put an arm around Daryl's shoulders, giving him no time to think the suggestion over. "I come with you."  
  
\----  
  
The lecturer at the auditorium was somebody else in the afternoon. A woman with short hair and strange accent, speaking about organic farming, citriculture and the growth of date-trees in zone 8. But Daryl couldn't concentrate on anything. His thigh hurt badly and his mind was racing. He also felt a bit ill.  
  
The doctor in the sand-colored tunic had told him all about the medicine he was supposed to receive, what it would do to his body and how it would help him to build muscle and grow hair on his body. He also said it would help to feel fit and have more energy. It had sounded good, almost like a dream come true. But then Daryl had to lower his pants and sit on the silver table. And the doctor had grabbed a good chunk of his thigh really hard, before ramming a needle into it. It had hurt so bad that his eyes welled up with tears. And then the pain got even worse because everything started to burn inside like fire, underneath his skin, and in his flesh. It scared him and he wished Denise would have been there. But she wasn't and everyone just smiled at him as if everything was good and fine. He wanted to go home. Without muscles and hair. He would certainly look silly with a beard anyway.  
  
"What's wrong?" Jesus leaned closer, whispering. "You look upset."  
  
Daryl stopped rubbing his thigh and looked in the other direction, out of the windows, trying to hold his tears back. A fresh breeze of air came in and it made him feel a bit better. There were also noises, coming from the big courtyard. It sounded like soldiers and horses. Voices giving commands. Some kind of musical instrument being played. And a deep voice announcing His Imperial Highness, Negan, the emperor of the new world.  
  
Daryl sat up straight on his chair, trying to look out of the windows, but he couldn't really see anything.  
  
"Excuse me." Siddiq got up and left the room. Some other soldiers followed him.  
  
The lecturer sighed, pausing her talk about the propagation of date trees. "Anybody else attending the conviction?" She put both hands on her hips, rolling her eyes, when immediately almost everyone hurried either outside or towards the windows. "Of course."  
  
Paul's jewelry jingled as he hopped off his seat as well and leaned out of one of the high windows. He wasn't the biggest fan of public punishments, but he felt it was kind of his obligation to witness them.  
  
The wide courtyard was surrounded by crowds of people, soldiers, and townsfolk. A group of special guards stood in the middle, left and right of a stage-like construction made of black steel. It wasn't very big or high, just enough to display certain events without hindrance to the public eye. One of the emperor's generals stood up there, his hands bound behind his back, his head lowered.  
  
Jesus frowned, not sure what was going on. He had no idea that Dwight had committed a crime. He was Negan's right-hand man for years, the most trusted guy in the inner circle. For a moment Jesus thought there must have been a misunderstanding. A mistake. But as soon as a tall man in leather armor entered the scene, he knew it wasn't. He could tell. By the way Negan climbed the three stairs up on the low stage. His steps reluctant and heavy-footed, and not because of the weight of his boots. He could tell by Negan's serious face. He could see it when Negan looked at the defendant, anguish shining in dark eyes. And his heart broke a little, knowing what was about to happen, what Negan had to do.  
  
"PEOPLE-" Negan stood next to the war criminal, raising his voice, deep and authoritative, addressing everybody around in a kind of reproachful tone. "Are the foundation of our world! Of everything we are building here! They are the most valuable resource! The fucking heritage we try to preserve!"  
  
Daryl brushed a strand of shiny hair behind his adorned ear and got up, stepping to the row of windows. He pushed past another person and then felt his stomach clench weirdly when he saw the man standing on stage. Tall and mighty. The golden details on his black leather armor glinting in the bright sunlight. Black kohl making his eyes even more intense as he cast hard glances at the crowd.  
  
"Children! Women! Men!" Negan shouted towards his audience. "Old or young! Fucking white or black! Barber, gardener or god damn doctor!" He gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring. "EVERYBODY is important! No fucking human being is more valuable than the other! Race, gender, profession! We are not all the same but we are all fucking equal! We all sit in the same fucking boat! Nobody can make it on their own! We depend on each other!" He raised his voice even more, shouting at the top of his lungs in a feral growl. "UNITY IS OUR STRENGTH! THE ONLY WAY TO SURVIVAL!" He paused a moment, looking around, his face a hard mask, before he gestured to his right, at the blond man standing there with lowered eyes and hunched shoulders. "We are here today because a member of our society considered himself better and of higher value than his fellow citizens. We are here today for Denise Cloyd, who spent her life caring selflessly for seven enslaved people." He paused again, his lips curling into a disgusted sneer. "We are here today because a brave woman was cowardly murdered by one of our most trusted people."  
  
Nausea swirled through Daryl's body as he watched the scene in the courtyard. He felt like dreaming. Like he wasn't really there. Perplexed and numb. The emperor said Denise's name. Loud and clear. Angrily in front of everyone. Because she had been killed.  
  
"Even in war, we do not kill the weak. We do not kill the unarmed or the ones depending on protection. We do not kill the ones who surrender. We do not kill arbitrary." Negan poked his tongue to the corner of his mouth, staring at his former general. "The manslaughter of Denise Cloyd is a war crime. War crimes are unacceptable and will always be punished."  
  
A red-haired soldier carried a searing hot branding iron up the three stairs, along with a heavy, long, black glove. He handed the glove to Negan, waited until it was put on, then gave him the iron and positioned himself behind the defendant, forcing him to his knees.  
  
"But we do not offer a quick and merciful release through death," Negan spoke loud and clear, all emotions gone from his voice. "Dying is easy. Living a long life in shame and guilt is not." He gave Abraham a small sign with two fingers to hold Dwight's head in place, then pressed the glowing iron to the squirming man's right cheek, making him scream in agony. "Let your former general's marked face be a daily reminder that all lives matter and arrogance has no place in the new world!"    
  
Daryl gasped and briefly looked away, horrified by the cruelty and loud screams. The entire crowd was silent but as soon as the sizzling iron was pulled from the man's face and he fell to the ground, overwhelmed by the pain, everyone raised their left hand high up in the air, two fingers and thumb spread out. And not just all the people in the courtyard, but everyone at the windows as well, including Jesus, who looked very serious, his perfectly trimmed eyebrows drawn together in a hard stare.  
  
The emperor didn't say anything when Dwight was dragged off stage by two soldiers. He didn't even look. But he turned around to face the east wing of the Sanctuary, where dozens of people stood at the open windows of the auditorium to watch the public conviction. And something dark and intense moved through his eyes as he raised his left hand, two fingers and thumb spread out, in a silent salute to the only person who could be considered a relative of Miss Cloyd.  
  
Daryl didn't return the greeting but didn't look away either. He stared back in silence, feeling thankful and strangely mature for the first time in his life.  
  
\----  
  
Starting at 4 PM, the auditorium held a prenatal class for the surrogate mothers and not even Jesus wanted to stay for that. So he used the remaining hours until dinner for more chamberlain-training in the private rooms of the palace, with a special focus on disrobing and bathroom service, knowing that the emperor would spend the time after public punishment with excessive training to calm down.  
  
Daryl didn't say much, just followed the instructions to the best of his abilities, trying to concentrate. It wasn't easy, though. His mind kept wandering to the events in the courtyard and the things the eunuch emperor had said. How angry he had been and how passionate about the ideologies he believed in. Mister Blake would have laughed at the whole thing. Defending a servant's life, considering everyone equal, placing workers on the same level with generals and doctors. And Daryl couldn't even really disagree. He wasn't worth as much as the really good and smart people. The ones who could do amazing things like fighting and healing or building things like the huge, shiny Sanctuary or the impressive white wall surrounding the whole capital city. These people were truly great.  
  
Not him. He couldn't even manage to serve spice tea and stuffed dates.      
  
"The trick is," Paul said, placing the tray on the small table next to the bathtub. "You need to be able to know what he needs and wants before he realizes it himself, you know?"  
  
Daryl brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, making his golden jewelry jingle. He had no idea what the beautiful servant talked about.  
  
"You learn it by watching him carefully." Paul picked the tray up again and gave it to Daryl to carry it back to the bedroom. "You will see what mood he is in or you know his schedule and can judge whether he will be tired or stressed out once he comes here. It takes a little time to get the hang of it." He smiled, catching the empty tea glass before it fell to the floor. "But he is not that hard to figure out."  
  
Daryl balanced the tray through the room, keeping his head high and eyes lowered, and put it down on a table, happy when not one date rolled off the small silver plate.  
  
"See? You can do it." Paul grabbed one, popped it into his mouth and kissed Daryl's smooth cheek. "Let's go to dinner. Tuesday is Turmeric Chicken day."  
  
\----  
  
The canteen was crowded and filled with energetic talk and laughter at seven in the evening. The emperor was there, too. But he sat at a different rug and Daryl couldn't really see him. He tried anyway, craning his neck every two minutes, or whenever he heard him speak.    
  
"It's lime. You squeeze it on the chicken." Paul explained when Daryl scrunched up his face after biting into his juicy green lime-half. "It makes it taste even better." He demonstrated it once, then licked his fingers.  
  
Daryl watched and warily did the same, including the finger lick, before he took a bite of his meat. It really tasted better now.  
  
"I'm sorry for your loss, Mike." Siddiq lowered down on the other side of the rug, arranging the items on his tray to his liking. "I hope your friend finds peace now."  
  
It took a moment before Daryl realized that the man was talking to him. And when he did, he had no idea how to react. So he didn't say anything, just nodded once and very faintly, feeling embarrassed because three other people looked at him.  
  
"What was she like?" Paul asked casually, pulling a piece of meat off the bone. "Was she pretty?"  
  
Daryl gave him a sideglance, nodding. "Hm." Pictures of Denise popped into his head. She had been pretty and very nice.  
  
"Hm." Paul nodded as well, not looking up from his plate. "It's sad that she couldn't come here with you."  
  
"Yes." A big lump of sadness fell into Daryl's stomach. He ate in silence for a few minutes, then heard his own croaky voice speak. To the other people, sitting next to him, left and right and opposite, as if he was a part of their group. "What happens to him."  
  
"To Dwight?" Siddiq put a perfectly cleaned chicken bone down on the side of his silver tray. "He is ejected from his former position and office. He got branded with her name and publicly linked with the crime he committed. It will be written down in the books for everyone to see. He will spend the rest of his life producing for the common good, building homes for former slaves."  
  
Daryl listened, chewing slowly. He knew Denise would have liked that. She wasn't a violent person. She wouldn't want him dead. But being forced to do something good for the rest of his life, with a constant reminder of what he'd done, was certainly a thing she would have supported. And it made him feel good as well. "Thank you." It was a quiet answer in hoarse voice, but he meant it.  
  
Siddiq nodded. "I didn't make the law. You have to thank my brother."  
  
\----

Daryl was bathed after dinner, freshly clothed with a new pair of thin, loose pants and a tunic with short sleeves in matching colors. Spruced up with dark blue eyeliner and sparkling golden jewelry braided into his hair and put on his ears and wrists.  
  
Jesus had been proud of his work and sent the newest chamberlain into the Sanctuary's private west wing at nine in the evening, knowing that His Majesty wouldn't show up before ten, which gave Daryl enough time to calm his nerves and prepare the room without being watched.  
  
Lighting the candles in the lamps and lanterns, putting towels out and soap, something casual to wear and something fresh to drink.  
  
Daryl had done all of it and still was terribly nervous when he knelt down next to the door to wait in silence, rubbing the sore spot on his thigh, where the doctor had poked the horrible needle in.  
  
At 10:14 PM the door to the study opened and somebody entered but didn't walk all the way through to the bedroom. Whoever it was stayed in the study, switched the electric lights on and sat down at the desk.

Daryl held his breath and listened. He couldn't hear anything else for a long time. After 17 minutes there was some paper rustling, and after another 8 somebody coughed slightly. It was a man. Daryl shifted on his ankles. It was certainly the emperor sitting at his desk. Maybe he was waiting for his chamberlain to serve him. Bring him something to drink or more paper to write on. Maybe it was rude to just sit next to the bedroom door.  
  
"Hff." He looked around, unsure what to do, fumbling with the thin fabric of his tunic. He wished Jesus would have been there to help him.

At 10:40 he got up, trying to do it quietly but his jewelry jingled faintly anyway. His hands felt sweaty and he wiped them into his tunic, then poured some tea into the glass on the silver tray and looked sheepishly from left to right when he spilled a few drops. He had no cloth to clean it up, so he used the hem of his tunic, letting the thin fabric absorb the fluid before he picked the tray up and carried it slowly to the door, hesitating for a moment to enter the study.     
  
When he finally did, he could see out of the corner of his eye that it was indeed the eunuch emperor sitting at the desk. Over a bunch of paper folders, marking some things with a black and gold fountain pen.  
  
He huffed a nervous breath, the glass on the tray wobbling a little, but it didn't fall over. He held his gaze down and went to stand next to the desk, just presenting the beverage as Paul had taught him. Nothing happened for almost three minutes. But then a hand reached out to grab the glass. A big hand with long fingers and a golden ring with teal gem. The forearm was covered by a piece of black armor and there was a white bandage on the man's wrist. It hadn't been there before and Daryl wondered what had happened. Maybe the horse had bitten him.  
  
The glass was emptied and put back on the tray, without a comment or further instruction. But since the glass was empty, Daryl thought it might have been polite to get more tea, and he left the study, carefully balancing the tray so no date would roll off the small silver plate. 

He refilled the glass without spilling anything and went back, standing quietly next to the desk again. His arms got tired from holding the tray for such a long time and he shifted on his feet once, then occupied himself by secretly watching the emperor working. How he wrote things down, fluently, in very beautiful handwriting. After 12 sentences the big hand finally reached out again to take the glass. It wasn't emptied this time, but there was a subtle handsignal, letting Daryl know that he should leave the room.

He did, feeling a little crushed, not sure if he had done something wrong. Maybe the tea wasn't tasty or it was too cold. He put the tray on one of the small tables in the bedroom and then knelt back down next to the door, as Paul had taught him, waiting for further commands. His thigh hurt, he was tired and he wished evening duty could be over now.

At 11:04 PM, there was another slight coughing noise, paper rustling and a heavy chair moving on carpet. Daryl's heart stumbled a bit and his cheeks felt hot when footsteps came closer and a tall man in real, black warrior boots entered the bedroom. He kept his eyes lowered as he was supposed to, but saw anyway how Negan walked through the room, disappeared from his view for a moment, came back, put something down on the vanity, popped a candied pecan into his mouth, drank the rest of the tea and finally stopped right in front of him, holding a hand out, palm facing downwards.  

Daryl knew that he was expected to kiss it and in addition two words popped into his head, slipping to the tip of his tongue. But then they didn't come out and he even turned away, rejecting the offer to pay respect. He didn't know why and felt bad instantly, especially when the hand was taken away and he heard a quiet 'ts' that sounded amused and displeased at the same time.

"A bath." It was the only thing Negan said, cool and dismissively, as he went to get some stuff out of his walk-in closet.

Daryl got up, feeling his throat tighten on the way to the bathroom and as soon as he turned on the faucet of the shiny marble bathtub, his eyes started to water as well. He had forgotten all the important details Jesus had told him about running a bath for the emperor, and he felt lonely and miserable. Like a really bad person. He wanted to do his job well and be thankful for all the things the superiors gave to him, just like Denise had always taught him. But here at the Sanctuary, it was really difficult. Everything was new and complicated and the only person who liked him wasn't there to help.

He wiped his face with his bare forearm, smearing his eye makeup, and took a bottle with nicely scented, thick fluid to pour some of it into the water. Then he just waited until the tub was almost full, turned the water off and placed the towel that he had put out earlier onto the broad brim. He couldn't think of anything else to prepare, so he went back to the bedroom, waiting a moment in the doorframe. The emperor stood at the foot of his huge bed, flipping through a bunch of pictures. He looked at them and carelessly flicked them onto the mattress, one by one.      

Daryl watched, uncertain of what to do, rubbing his hurting thigh. The injection site felt hard and swollen through the thin fabric of his pants. It would certainly never go back to how it was before. 

"What's with your leg." Negan didn't look up, flicking a photo of a purification plant onto the bed.

Daryl touched his left earring, surprised by the question. He didn't know why the eunuch emperor suddenly talked to him, but it felt very good. "'t hurts." He wanted to tell all that had happened at doctor Stookey's house, with the injection and the silver table, but then he felt too shy.

Negan flipped through five more pictures before he waved two fingers at his servant. "Come here." 

The short command in baritone voice let Daryl obey without a second thought. He went closer but stayed at a safe distance at the man's side. 

Negan clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "Sit." He touched the covered mattress with his knee, "Here." and put the photos aside. "Why does it hurt."

Daryl felt pretty small and cowed as he sat down on the edge of the bed, glancing up at the tall man in black armor, standing close enough to smell warm leather and the slight sweat on his skin.

"I would appreciate a verbal response if I ask you a question." Negan held the shy man in firm stare, watching as his hand moved to his thigh again, pointing at a specific spot, before the question was answered in hoarse tone.

"' needle stuck in my skin." 

The truly worried expression in blue eyes let the stress and troubles of the shitty day melt a little, but he refrained from smiling. "Did the doctor start the hormone therapy today?"

Daryl nodded, very relieved that he could talk about it. "Yes."

"Was it your first injection ever?"

"Hm." He nodded again, brushing a strand of shiny hair out of his face. Then touched the emperor's arm very briefly because he wanted to say something else. "'t got hot."

Negan nodded as well, looking sincere. "What did Denise do when you were hurting."

Daryl's eyes flickered to the left, instantly having pictures in his mind. Denise had been very nice to him whenever he was in pain. He glanced up again, stroking his own head twice to show how she had done it. 

"Hm." Negan stepped another inch closer, his voice completely casual and serious as he combed five comforting fingers through soft hair. "I gave Bob permission to give you an injection. Former slaves are under my personal protection because they come here without their caretakers and they need someone to act in their best fucking interest until they are able to do it themselves." He looked down, searching eye contact. "I gave the doctor permission because I think you will benefit from the therapy and you are fucking tough enough to handle the pain."

Daryl sat stone-still, curiosity on his face, as he stared up into kohl framed eyes and listened to deep words while his head was caressed by a big, strong hand. He leaned into the touch, not daring to blink.

"Getting a shot hurts sometimes. But a little pain doesn't kill you." Negan brushed his fingertips down a smooth cheek, tilting the man's head back to study smeared, blue eyeliner. "Did you cry because it hurt so bad?" His question didn't sound accusingly or mocking. "Or did I make you cry."

Daryl froze, then tried to shake his head, because he didn't want to talk about crying.

Negan copied the gesture with a very reproving look. "Lying to your leader is not allowed. You always answer truthfully." He arched his brows, tipping his chin down, warningly. "Did I make you cry."

Daryl didn't nod. He stared up, his answer barely above a hoarse whisper. "Yes."

Negan nodded, giving the soft skin of Daryl's cheek a gentle pinch before he released him. "I had a bad day. You did a good job here." He smiled faintly and went to one of his cabinets, getting a small, silver container out. He went back and held it up. "Use this on your thigh when you go to bed. It'll make you feel better."

"Thank you." Daryl took it shyly, wondering if he was supposed to take the emperor's boots off now, so he could take his bath.

"You may go now. It's late, I do the rest myself." The golden headpiece of Daryl's jewelry was a bit askew. Negan tugged it back in its right place. "Come back in the morning. You wake me up at 6 o'clock. Don't be late." He gave a serious nod, then held his hand out. "Bid good night." 

Daryl held his breath, glanced up and instantly dropped his head again. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to be disrespectful. He wanted to say thank you for Denise. And just when the emperor was about to withdraw his hand again, he quickly let go of the ointment tub and grabbed the man's bandaged wrist, holding on to it with ten fingers.

Negan let him. He watched for a moment and when nothing happened, reached out to lift a tense chin, tilting it up with the side of his crooked fingers, creating silent eye contact. He studied the beautiful pale face, the slight blush on smooth cheeks, nervous blue eyes that looked even more interesting with the smudgy paint around them. A spark of rage flared up in his chest as he pictured the young man in bed with Philip Blake. And it grew hot and wandered deeper as he pictured the boy here in his own bed, soft, shiny hair splayed out on black pillows. This innocent mouth parted with sounds of pleasure. He brushed the pale pink lips with his thumb, twice, fascinated by their incredible softness and the warm breath coming out between them. 

Daryl stared up, meeting the piercing gaze of dark eyes, his heart thumping loud and heavy in his chest, his throat, his ears, like it wanted to run away or say something really important. His mouth was touched and for the split of a second, he tapped the tip of his tongue against the pad of a gentle thumb. It changed the expression on the emperor's face and the thumb moved to the side on his jawbone, guiding him towards the offered hand.

It wasn't hard or difficult and he didn't see when it happened. He closed his eyes, smelling spicy, warm skin, feeling the cool surface of a golden ring with teal gem against his mouth, before he pressed his lips on the back of long fingers, kissing them. He didn't know if he did it right and he wasn't sure why he did it at all, but he felt very proud and happy. It made his belly warm and the soles of his feet tingle. The words 'My Lord' swirled through his head like a secret, and a broad hand came down on his hair, caressing it for a moment.

He didn't look up when it was over and he felt a little strange when he carried the small silver ointment container towards the door, with ten fingers, because he missed holding the emperor's hand.

"Ksst."

He glanced back over his shoulder, his earlobes tingling with heat when he saw a tiny smirk crooking Negan's lips.

"Tell Jesus to come and see me."

Daryl nodded and lowered his gaze, reaching for the door.

"Sst."

He felt his pulse thumping deep in his throat when he turned around once more and the tiny smirk on the eunuch emperor's wonderful face had grown into a full smile.

"I like your pants."

\----

At night in his huge bed made of pillows and velvet cushions, hearing the gurgling fountain and the rustling of birds in golden cages, Daryl didn't mind that he was alone in Paul's big room. He didn't feel lonely. But he felt cool ointment on his thigh, soothing the hard swelling, while pictures of a tall, mighty leader went through his head. Heavy warrior boots and amazing leather armor. Muscles moving under slightly sweaty skin. Strong arms and firm hands. Pretty, black face paint. The most beautiful eunuch in the whole new world and everywhere else. 

He turned around in his mountain of pillows, lying on his side, and he took his hand up to kiss his own fingers, whispering a soundless, "My Lord." as he closed his eyes.

    


	9. Intimacy

"Michael." Paul lifted the blanket and gracefully melted against the sleeping body underneath. "Wake up." He whispered, nuzzling soft, sweet-smelling hair until his nose found the warm skin of Daryl's neck. He brushed it with his lips and beard, then kissed it lazily. "It's five AM."  

Daryl inhaled deeply, letting his thighs fall apart when deftly fingers slid over his belly and down between his legs, gently fondling his flaccid penis.

"You have to wash and dress." Jesus nibbled the man's earlobe, breathing in his scent. "His Majesty is waiting."

Daryl blinked, closed his eyes, and blinked again, soaking in the warmth of his covers and the beautiful servant's body heat. It was still dark and felt like night, but as his drowsy mind started to wake up, he remembered that he was supposed to serve the eunuch emperor this morning. Very early. He turned his head.

"Good morning." Jesus smiled. It was too dark to see anything but their noses touched. "I should sleep down here with you every night." He sniffed a warm cheek and kissed it. "You are so cuddly."   

The rough beard and soft lips felt nice against Daryl's skin. He moved an inch closer. 

Jesus closed his eyes, enjoying the contact, softly squeezing and tugging the man's shrunken genitals. "Do you want to wash alone? " He loved how they felt in his hand. "Or should I help?"

Daryl blinked, fascinated how his lashes brushed against Paul's face. "You." He said it quietly and nudged his finger against a bearded chin, just because he liked touching it so much. 

"Mmhh." Jesus sighed in deep satisfaction, wrapping one of his legs around one of Daryl's. "In five minutes." He kissed the side of a sleep-warm face. "Or ten."

\----

"Goose! Go play with Chicken."

The peacock stopped picking at Daryl's golden bangles, craned its long neck back and trotted off, slightly offended.

Daryl glared after the huge bird, then turned his head to the left, so Paul could finish his work. Braiding small golden beads into a thin strand of hair, matching the golden details of his outfit. 

"He'll love it." Paul tucked the braided strand to the back of Daryl's head, making it seem like it had naturally grown that way. "And your eyes." He tilted the man's chin from left to right, checking the applied eyeliner a last time. "He likes blue." 

"Where's yours." Daryl touched Paul's face with two fingers. There wasn't any makeup, no jewelry and his hair was up in a bun instead of falling around his face.

"I'll join the boys for the morning drill today." Jesus rose effortlessly to his feet out of his cross-legged position. "Then I'll scrub all the dirt, sweat and tears off and pimp myself up." He chuckled, holding a hand out to help Daryl up. "Negan likes his men pretty, but not on the training ground."

"Hm." Daryl followed the beautiful servant out of the fountain yard, ignoring the blue parrot who cawed a loud 'Mikey' after him.

"He says it is for safety reasons." Paul shrugged, leading the way through the Sanctuary's endless hallways, towards the emperor's private rooms. "But I think he just doesn't want to get distracted by all my awesomeness." He wagged an eyebrow, smirking. "If you know what I'm saying."

"Hm." Daryl wasn't sure if he knew it, but he tugged the seam of his crotch when they passed a door with two guards so they would notice his terrific wide flowing pants. One of them looked in his direction and a happy spark twirled through his stomach, making him walk a bit more upright. 

"So let's go through it a last time." Paul shoved a heavy door open to enter the west wing. "You open the windows for fresh air, you prepare the bathroom and his tea. If he's not awake by then you wake him up. Then you offer him his robe and tea." He glanced back over his shoulder, holding a finger up. "And don't forget to wish him a good morning. He insists on good manners." 

Daryl nodded but wasn't sure if he would be able to memorize all that. 

"He will be alone in the bathroom. When he comes out you help him with his armor if he wishes to wear it right away. But sometimes he will wear simple training clothes. In that case, he'll let you know." Paul formed a fist with his right hand and bumped it against the hand of the big, sturdy guard standing in front of the emperor's private study. "Salam." He flashed the man a bright smile. "You didn't think you'd see me again so soon, right?"

Jerry chuckled. "Ja!" It was true. He thought after spending the night in His Majesty's private chambers, the young man would sleep like a log somewhere in the fountain yard, at least until lunchtime.

"Well..." Jesus stretched his arms wide over his head, hooking his thumbs together. "What can I say, I consist of pure energy. It is a gift."

"Ja!" The guard chuckled again, pulling his shoulders up. He liked Jesus.

Paul smiled, turning to Daryl to tug the deeply cut front of his thin tunic. "Have fun, Mikey! Will see you for lunch!" He leaned in for a tiny kiss on the cheek and left, surprisingly soundless without all his jingling jewelry.

Daryl looked after him, quickly dropped his gaze when the guard gave him a happy smile and went into the study. It was dark and he raised his hand to knock at the next door, but then wasn't sure if he was supposed to make so much noise in the early morning. After a moment of hesitation, he touched the door cautiously with his knuckles and opened, peeking through the door slit. His stomach tensed and he held his breath when he entered.

The room was warm and felt cozy somehow, not as huge and intimidating as before. A few candles still flickered in the brass lanterns and he glanced at the bed, feeling his belly tingle. All the blankets were ruffled and two pillows lay on the floor, along with a piece of golden jewelry. He could see a long body lying still beneath a thin cover, dark hair on an even darker pillow and a bare shin and foot exposed on the black sheets. He stared for a moment, biting the inside of his bottom lip before he remembered his tasks and went to the big windows to open them. It was difficult. He had to rattle the handle and pull really hard. Then he decided to open the high balcony doors as well to let even more fresh air inside. The first dim morning light crawled over the sky accompanied by the distant sound of singing birds.

Daryl liked sunrise. It was the safe time he normally went to bed in Alexandria after his bedroom service was finished and Denise had cleaned his body and told him a good night wish even though the night was over.

He looked outside for a while, breathing in the clean air and then went to the bathroom, to prepare everything as Jesus had taught him. Soap, comb, razor, towels and a pretty glass bottle with something that smelled really good like Negan's skin. He sniffed at it and put it down next to the sink, then glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He looked almost as beautiful as Jesus, but there still wasn't any beard on his face. He wanted a grey one like the eunuch emperor had.

His head snapped around, hearing some rustling from the bedroom and hastily put the last few items out before he went to make the tea. It was the easiest of all his tasks because Denise had often made tea and he had always watched and sometimes helped. Of course, the teapot at the Sanctuary was silver and shiny and people drank out of glasses instead of mugs, but the rest was as he knew it from home. He put the hot pot down on the silver tray, along with a glass on a small plate and a couple of stuffed dates. It clattered a little as he carried it through the room and the teaspoon fell off the tray when he sat it all on the nightstand, but no tea was spilled. He sighed and tugged the seam of his crotch as he looked at the tall man in bed, not sure how he was supposed to wake him up or wish a good morning.   

He was lying on his side, the light blanket wrapped around his lean hips, his chest completely bare, all broad and powerful with hard muscles under his tanned skin and fine black hair covering his pecs, almost up to his neck. 

Daryl fumbled nervously with his left earring, trying to recall what Paul had taught him but couldn't come up with useful information. The emperor always wanted to say good night with a hand kiss, though, so it was probably the way he wanted to say good morning, too. Daryl said the words once for practice, soundless, and then bent forward, but realized that the bed was too big and he wouldn't be able to reach the man lying in the middle of the mattress. Only one of his hands was visible, resting close to his face with the palm up and no ring with teal gem, while the other was somewhere underneath the thin covers. But that was okay, the exposed hand had a ring as well, a broad, golden one without gem, worn on the thumb. Daryl huffed a small breath and lifted a leg up to kneel on the bed, then crawled a bit closer because he still wasn't able to reach the man's fingers. He bent down and accidentally bumped with his forehead against the emperor's nose when he pressed his lips to the adorned thumb, trying to gather the courage to say 'good morning' out loud. He tried four times, feeling his heart race and then jumped startled when a sudden deep voice did the job for him. 

"Good morning!" Negan furrowed his brows, looking directly at a pale, wide-eyed face, two inches away from him, frozen in shock. "You always climb into other people's fucking beds without invitation?"

Daryl stared back into dark, very awake eyes, unable to move or think, before he scrambled off the thick mattress, backward, his jewelry jingling as if it was in a panic, too. He didn't know what to do, thought about running out, but then just crouched down in front of the nightstand, took the hot, silver teapot and tried to fill the glass on the tray with trembling fingers, the pot rattling against the brim of the glass.

Negan sighed, "Alright." swung his long legs out of bed and sat up, the thin white sheet loosely covering his bare crotch. "Fucking stop that. I don't have use for servants with scalded fingers." The order was obeyed and the pot placed back on the tray, right into a puddle of spilled tea, to be in good company with soaked dates and a wet cloth napkin. "Turn around."

Daryl felt his face heat up as if he had a really high fever. He dropped his gaze and turned around in his crouched position to stare at bare feet with neatly trimmed toenails and a small scar that had needed stitches once. 

"I am a light sleeper. You don't have to touch me or get into my fucking bed to wake me up." Negan grasped a smooth chin with two fingers. "You just greet me and tell me what time it is." He held his other hand out, palm facing downwards, and guided Daryl's head towards it. "And I offer my hand. You don't take it." 

Daryl huffed a nervous breath, wanted to back away first, but then pressed his lips to long fingers. They were warm and fine, dark hair was sprinkled across the knuckles. He liked it and kissed twice. Once on the golden ring and once next to it, before he looked up and added a shy 'good morning'. 

Negan loved the blue color framing innocent eyes and the full attention they devoted to him. The hint of a smile crossed his lips. "My robe." He watched his servant rise awkwardly to his feet and generously gestured for him to the dressing room.

The emperor's robe was made of very heavy, dark green fabric. Daryl took it off the hook and sniffed it once because it smelled so good, then carried it back insecurely, not sure if he was supposed to kneel again. 

"Stand. Hold it out for me." 

He made a step back, remembering what Jesus had taught him, took the thick robe by the collar, holding it open, and then raised it another inch higher when the tall eunuch emperor got up from the bed, turned around and just like that dropped the white sheet to reveal his naked body. Daryl's heart stumbled in surprise at the sight of a broad, muscular back and bare buttocks. He took a quick glance, felt his earlobes grow warm and opened the robe a bit wider so the emperor could slip his arms into the sleeves.

Negan cleared his throat, shoving long fingers through his sleep-tousled hair, took a sip from his dripping tea glass and vanished into the bathroom. "Training gear."

"Hm." Daryl looked after him, pulled his earring for seven seconds until he heard the sound of running water and then snapped out of his daze and went to find the black clothing Paul had pointed out as being used for workout. He liked them. They felt light and very imperishable at the same time. The people in Alexandria didn't have such fabric. He took the black shirt and held it in front of his chest, looking down at himself. He would look awesome in real soldier training gear. He could do his secret training in the fountain yard or maybe better in the privacy of Paul's room because he didn't want the silly giggling girls to see him.

"You want to join the morning drill, cadet?" Negan smirked, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

Daryl shook his head, startled, and quickly took the shirt down. The eunuch emperor was still naked, except for a pair of tight briefs and he couldn't help but stare at the bulge underneath the black fabric, not sure why he had such a big penis.   

"Sst." Negan dropped the wet towel and moved closer, enjoying the bewilderment in his servant's expression as he straightened to full height and stepped into the young man's personal space, granting a whiff of his scent and a close up look at his bare chest. "Eyes up. It's impolite to stare at your leader's dick." He took the black training gear out of tense fingers and intentionally brushed them with his own. He had to admit his new chamberlain smelled like fucking heaven.

Daryl licked his lips nervously, glanced up at the near face and instantly dropped his head when a dark brow lifted in a wry arch and a fresh musky scent with a hint of lime invaded his senses.

Negan chuckled, showcasing his broad shoulders and slight damp chest hair for another moment, leaned in to speak right next to a prettily adorned ear, "My shoes, please." and went to get dressed.

Daryl accidentally ruffled the silky hair at the side of his head because his ear still tickled from the emperor's warm breath. He turned around in the spacious dressing room and crouched down, confusedly touching three pairs of shoes before he found one that looked right and then carried them out into the bedroom. 

Negan appeared two minutes later in his tight, black training outfit, the Empire's red emblem on the left side of his chest. He didn't wear kohl, but small, black studs in his lobes. His hair was neatly combed back and his short beard looked perfectly groomed. He took his dripping tea glass as he went by the nightstand, drank and sat down in his leather armchair. He tilted his head to the side and watched every movement attentively when his servant knelt down in front of him, his fingernail tapping the glass. The young man didn't look especially fit, but had no visible body fat either, which was uncommon for a eunuch. "Have you ever done a workout?"

Daryl didn't look up but he nodded once, fastening the man's shoe with timid fingers.

"What did you do?"

He shrugged, not sure if he should tell about his secret training.

"Running?"

"Mh." He glanced up for a small answer in hoarse voice. "Push-ups."

"Hm." Negan gave a nod, pursing his lips. "Show me."

Daryl shook his head instantly, his cheeks heating up. "'m not good."

Negan waved two fingers. "Fucking show me."

Daryl grimaced and tucked a shiny long strand behind his ear. He hesitated a few seconds and huffed a nervous breath before he got into position, face down, his feet together, his weight on his hands and the balls of his feet. His hair fell into his face and his golden jewelry jingled as he lowered his torso down and pushed himself up again. 

Negan watched and got up, squatting next to his chamberlain to correct his posture. "Keep your elbows close to your body." He put a firm hand on Daryl's lower back. "Don't drop your hips and don't have your fucking butt hanging in the air."

Daryl held his breath and tried another one as he was supposed to.

"No." Negan lightly swatted the man's thigh. "Breathe. And keep your body as straight as possible." He monitored a few more reps until they were to his liking, "Much better." ruffled the soft hair at the back of Daryl's head and got up. "Do thirty like this, go to breakfast and clean a bit up here until I'm back. I'll wear my armor then."

\----

Doing secret training in the emperor's bedroom was much more exhausting than doing it in the park in Alexandria. After the first ten push-ups in the correct position Daryl's arms hurt. After five more, breathing was kind of difficult, and after twenty, he collapsed on the pretty floor, feeling a bit dizzy while something in his upper arms burned like liquid fire. There was no way he could do another ten. 

He pressed his glowing cheek on the shiny cool floor, trying to catch his breath when a loud voice came through the open windows and balcony doors. A very deep, very commanding voice, shouting instructions. And a whole group of loud voices answering in perfect unison.

_'Ready? EXERCISE!  ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

_'One, Sir!'_

_'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

_'Two, Sir!'_

Daryl knelt up, wiped some hair out of his forehead as he listened for a moment and then went outside to have a look. There were at least 300 men on the training ground, all wearing the same black outfit, all on the ground facing in the same direction doing push-ups. But not like Daryl had just done them. No, they did it one-armed, their legs spread a little for balance, one arm on their back, as they pushed their entire weight up on the other.

_'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

_'Three, Sir!'_

_'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

_'Four, Sir!'_

And the emperor strode between them, shouting at the top of his lungs, while he corrected the posture of some soldiers. 

One man, rather slender and short in his appearance, in the front row, seemed to struggle. A few strands had slipped out of his perfect man bun and he tried to relieve some weight off of his arm by leaning back slightly and placing more weight on his legs, rising his butt into the air.

His drill sergeant was on him instantly.

_'ARE YOU FUCKING HORNY, CADET!?'_

_'No, Sir!'_ Paul shouted back, staring at the ground, pushing himself up once more.

 _'YOU NEED A DICK UP YOUR ASS, CADET!?'_ Negan bellowed, leaning down to shout in his soldier's ear.

Jesus did his best to fight the smirk that tried to force its way on his sweaty face. _'No, I don't, Sir!'_

 _'THEN GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT OF THE AIR, CADET!'_ Negan used his shoe to shove Paul's butt down. _'We do our best job! Not the easiest!'_

Daryl watched from the balcony, his eyes wide, and then blinked once in disbelief when the tall eunuch emperor got down on the ground himself, facing his troops, and did the push-ups with them in perfect posture, one arm on his back, shouting along.

_'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

_'Elven, Sir!'_

_'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

_'Twelve, Sir!'_

_'KNUCKLES!'_ Instead of using his palm, he put his weight on his fist, using the first two knuckles. _'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

The entire group of men followed his command and changed to one-armed knuckle push-ups. _'Thirteen, Sir!'_

Daryl crinkled his nose. The soldiers were really badass and he felt a little bit guilty for not even finishing the thirty normal push-ups the eunuch emperor had asked him to do. So he went down on the tiled ground and got back into the position he was taught, trying to keep his body as straight as possible and his butt down.

_'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

_'Fourteen, Sir!'_

It was still difficult and his arms burned badly, but he listened to the loud voice shouting commands and mouthed soundless answers along with the soldiers, pretending to be one of them. 

_'ONE! TWO! THREE!'_

"Fifteen, Sir." It was the best secret training he had ever done.

\---- 

At 9:30 in the morning, Negan was already through half of his paperwork for the day. 17 judicial decisions, reports about births and deaths, property management, and a new city founding in the south. He signed two more papers, made a side note to a request for a bigger children's house in Cartersville, and went through the reports for their rather newly established coconut tree plantations. They sounded good and the heavy crop sounded even better. He read through another document, giving his chamberlain a sideglance and couldn't help smirking. The young man knelt at the other end of the room as instructed, quietly for more than an hour now, and repeatedly sniffed his hands after he had been allowed to help remove sweaty training clothes and put the leathery armor on. He also seemed absorbed in thought and soundlessly mouthed the words of a military cadence he must have overheard at the morning drill.

"Drew some fucking blood and gore..." Daryl scratched his fingernail over the thick carpet, remembering all the awesome black boots stomping in unison through the barrack yards. "Turned around and drew some more." He wished he could do that too, with a weapon over his shoulder and pretty black warpaint around his eyes like the eunuch emperor.

"You seem to like the training. Maybe you should join us tomorrow."

Daryl's head shot up at the deep voice talking to him. 

"Who made you do push-ups in Alexandria. Philip or Denise?"

He shook his head to both.

Negan leaned back in his chair, tapping the pen against his bottom lip. "You did them on your own?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded once. "Secretly." In the park, underneath the huge oaks.

"Why was it a secret." Negan found it sad how starved for attention and a real conversation the young man was, hanging on his lips like he couldn't believe that he was spoken to. "Did they not want you to be fit?"

Daryl shifted on his knees, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "'s not allowed." He pointed to his upper arm. "'m a bedroom servant."

"I see." Negan pursed his lips, put the pen down and got up. "Well, not anymore. I expect everyone in my empire to be as fit as fucking possible." He brushed his fingertips over the man's head. "And I like some fucking muscle on my men. I think it looks hot." He cocked an eyebrow, grinning down at Daryl, patting his smooth cheek. "Now serve me some tea in the audience hall, please."

\----

Daryl didn't like the huge slaughterhouse-audience hall. It was much too empty, the walls too high and the temperature too cool. Also, the eunuch emperor spoke only to other people and not one word to his chamberlain. He just drank the tea that was served and gave his full attention to his visitors. And he even offered his ring for a kiss to some of them. Daryl wrinkled his nose every time it happened and quickly presented his silver tray in hopes Negan would like a stuffed date, a candied pecan or more tea. And he was really glad when audience time was finally over and everyone went to the canteen for lunch.

He wanted to go together with the emperor, but then he was suddenly gone and the only familiar face around was one of the giggling girls, so he followed her to the meal place, while she told him silly stories about Trisha and Pauline who were in a fight because one had stolen the favorite jewelry of the other.

"They are so childish, Michael. I honestly can't deal with their drama." She rolled her eyes in annoyance as she entered the canteen, holding on to Daryl's arm as if they were best friends for ten years.    

Daryl shot her and the extra long false lashes on her eyes a disgusted side glance when she leaned her head against his shoulder. Her hair smelled really weird.

"Mikey!" Jesus jumped up at his other side, almost making him drop his tray. "I was waiting for you! Sit with me?"

"Ehrm..." Tanja squinted, putting a hand on her hip. "Do you mind? We are in a conversation."

"Making his ears bleed with your gossip is not a conversation." Jesus clarified and wrapped an arm around Daryl's shoulders, leading him to a free spot in the back of the room where most of the soldiers sat. "Man, these women... sorry you got hijacked."

Daryl lowered down on the rug and wanted to express how thankful he was that Jesus had rescued him, but just as he found the courage to say something, a very stout guard with battleax stepped through the door and announced in penetrating voice that his Lord and Master was about to enter the building.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS!"

The whole room fell silent and everyone lowered their head in respect. Daryl too, but just for 3 seconds, then he glanced up underneath his long bangs, trying to see where Negan would sit. Something in his belly fluttered when he saw heavy combat boots coming closer, and then his entire skin tingled with hot sparks because long fingers briefly tickled the nape of his neck.

The eunuch emperor didn't sit with Jesus and Daryl. He sat with Siddiq and an elderly woman. But that was okay. Daryl felt very happy anyway, while he ate rabbit meat with pumpkin and something brown he had never seen before.

\----

In the afternoon Daryl helped Paul to feed the talking birds in the big golden cages, helped to feed the fishes in the pretty pond and threw a pillow after the Chicken-peacock because it didn't stop to follow him around. Then they went to the auditorium to hear a lecture about urban development and planning. Hershel seemed to be pleased to see the capital's newest resident, but didn't say anything, just nodded with a friendly smile in his direction.

After the auditorium, Daryl wanted to ask if they could go back to the west wing now because he couldn't stop thinking about the emperor and wondered what he was doing and if he maybe needed tea. But then he was too shy to ask and quietly followed Jesus into a completely empty room, where he spent the next hour on the floor, watching in pure amazement how the beautiful servant danced. Not with a woman, like the people in Alexandria did it. He danced all alone, in his wide flowing pants, wearing no tunic or shirt at all, but instead made all of his jewelry jingle in rhythm to the music. He kept his upper body completely still and just raised and dropped his left hip with a slow smirk in Daryl's direction. He also rolled his flat belly and moved his arms so gracefully that Daryl only stared with slightly parted lips.

He wished the dance practice would have been much longer and that the eunuch emperor could have seen it as well, but after exactly one hour came a group of girls to claim the room and Jesus dragged Daryl back to the fountain yard to take a bath and dress for the evening.

"It's Siddiq's birthday." Paul artfully curved the dark blue line he drew in the outer corner of Daryl's eye. The color matched the man's dark blue outfit perfectly. Long, wide flowing pants in thin, almost see-through fabric and a very short shirt, made of the same fabric. It had long sleeves, reaching the knuckles of Daryl's fingers, but it exposed nearly the entire creamy skin of his chest and belly, just as the jewelry he wore around his waist like a belt. It looked like someone had strung shiny coins on a golden chain. 

Daryl liked it and turned a bit sideways in front of the mirror, examining all of his outfit. It wasn't as good as the soldiers uniforms, but very pretty as well. There was a bracelet around his ankle and Jesus had braided pretty gold jewelry into his hair, along with one dark red and a dark blue bead, that nestled in his shiny hair like a small surprise.

"Perfect." Paul was very satisfied with his work and put his blue eyeliner back into the box. "You will like the party. We just have to be pretty and eat amazing food." He put two more especially sparkly rings on his delicate fingers to pimp up his own outfit, which was almost identical to Daryl's, except for the color. He kissed Daryl's cheek. "Let's go."

Daryl felt nervous walking through the maze of endless hallways, rooms, and doors. He didn't know this part of the palace and he hoped that he wouldn't have to serve too many people at the party, because he really didn't like it, and he rather wanted to hold a tray with tea for the emperor. After the 9th door, Daryl glanced at Paul. "Are you serving, too?" In Alexandria, all the bedroom servants served at big celebrations. Sometimes the Governor had even sent a bedroom servant home with a guest for anal service or other things.

"No." Paul tucked some hair behind his ear, exposing a long, dangling earring. "There will be special staff tonight for service. I just relax my ass on a bunch of cushions and look good." He smiled brightly and pulled a last door open, entering a huge room filled with a lot of people, exotic music, and chatter. Everything was decorated with green plants and colorful flowers that Daryl had never seen before. Girls with silver trays mingled among the guests, serving small bites of food and glasses of wine, tea, and juice. And some men sat near a fountain to play their strange musical instruments.

Jesus took Daryl by the hand and guided him through the crowded room towards the back where Negan sat in a big, solid armchair, next to some of his generals and Siddiq who wore black kohl around his eyes and a black tunic with golden details.

"My Lord." Paul lowered down to greet Negan, then grinned at Siddiq. "Happy birthday, your majesty! You look fancy!" 

Siddiq pouted. "I look old."

"Just a little." Jesus patted the man's thigh. "Do you have to sit here all night or will I get a dance with the birthday boy?"

"Well," Siddiq glanced to his right where his older brother sat in more than relaxed posture, his legs slightly spread, one stretched out, one arm propped on the armrest, thumb under his bearded chin, two fingers on his lips. "I guess I should greet all my guests first?" He assumed his guess was right since Negan just looked at him with arched brows but didn't say anything. 

"Sure." Jesus shrugged. "Mikey and I will chase one of the wine-girls in the meantime."  

Negan studied the shy young man in Paul's company, enjoying his very appealing outfit. "Salam. You look pretty." His eyes glinted in delight when his servant looked up instantly, obviously relieved that he received some attention and then illustrative pulled the seam of his crotch with the most serious face, showing off his pants.

Negan smirked behind his fingers and held his other hand out between his spread legs, palm facing downwards, savoring all the insecure movements when Daryl crouched down in front of him and placed a soft, clumsy kiss on the back of his fingers. He spread one out to rub a smooth jaw with it. "Glad you came."

\----

In a room full of several hundred people it was easy to get distracted and hard to find the only familiar person you knew once you got accidentally separated. Daryl held tightly on to his glass and looked around in search of the beautiful servant, but couldn't see him anywhere, just strangers. And one of them just wouldn't stop smiling in his direction. Daryl didn't like it and stared down at his weird red punch, watching countless tiny bubbles cling to the orange fruit pieces that swam inside.

"Salam. I've never seen you here before." A man in white tunic approached him. He had thick brown hair and a full beard of the same color. "Are you new in town?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, keeping his head down.

"Interesting. Where are you from?"

He didn't want to answer but didn't want to be impolite either, so he mumbled a small reply. "Alexandria."

"Oh, an insurgent." The man stepped a little closer, inspecting all the jewelry in silky hair. "Are you one of their soldiers? Should I be afraid?" He chuckled, reaching a hand out to touch the single dark blue bead he found next to a pale ear.

Daryl tensed when he was touched, knowing exactly what it meant. He shook his head, still not looking up. "'m a bedroom servant."

The man seemed to be surprised by the information, curling a soft strand of hair around his finger and leaned in a bit to sniff it. "What do you mean? Are you offering your body for pleasure?"

Daryl wanted to say no, but that would have been a lie. "Hm."

"Nice." The man brushed his nose along Daryl's cheek, inhaling his scent, while he put a hand on the small of his back and let it slip deeper onto firm butt cheeks. "Would you like to come with me? To somewhere more private, maybe?"

Daryl held his breath, feeling fingers trace his barely hidden butt crack, and then looked up after all when another man joined them. A tall, slender one with big mustache, who put an arm around the other man's shoulders with a wide grin. 

"Marcus! My friend!" Simon gave the man's back a hearty pat. "I am afraid you'll have to leave this little soiree!" He gestured towards the man in black leather armor, sitting at the other end of the room in a big, solid armchair. "See, our benevolent, very gracious sovereign would like you to rather spend your evening studying the law and fundamentals of this beautiful empire." He leaned in to speak closer to the man's ear, "Especially the part about punishments for sexual assaults." then patted his shoulder none too gently. "Hm? But of course, you can grab some of these delicious fruit tartlets on your way out!" He shoved the man a few steps in the direction of the exit. "Brain food! Helps you concentrate!" He watched him leave, shaking his head and then wrapped an arm around Daryl's shoulders, guiding him through the crowd. "Berries! Little devils will improve your memory and learning. All scientifically proven." 

"Hm." Daryl carried his punch glass a bit stiffly through all the people, not sure what the man was talking about and where his suitor was suddenly going.

Negan looked grim, watching his general and servant approach. He gave Simon a nod, whispered something to his guard, and beckoned Daryl closer. "Did you want to go with that guy?"

Daryl nodded instantly, his eyes wide. The eunuch emperor seemed angry.

"Hm." Negan nodded as well. "Why."

Daryl stared in panic at Negan's face, then glanced back over his shoulder but he couldn't see the white-tunic man anymore. He didn't know the answer either and dropped his gaze, not sure what to do.

"I asked you a question. Why did you want to go with that man."

"Anal service." It was a quiet answer in hoarse voice, but the truth.

"You are guest at this party. Your job is to eat, drink and fucking enjoy yourself. Not to offer your body to other people." Negan raised a hand when Siddiq next to him snickered, making him stop instantly. "It is against the law here."

Daryl felt his eyes well up. He didn't want to be punished. "'m sorry." His apology was barely audible but he hoped it helped anyway, and in addition, held his full glass out. 

"Keep it. It's yours." Negan waved two fingers at one of his generals to his left and received a thick, beige velvet cushion in return. He put it down next to his chair. "Sit with me while you drink it."

Daryl's legs and fingers trembled and felt really cold as he crouched down on the pillow, horrified that he had broken the law and made the emperor angry. He lifted the full glass to his lips, taking a small sip as he was supposed to. It prickled sharply against his tongue and he exhaled startled through his nose, not liking it at all. 

"Good?"

He nodded, staring at the weird red, bubbly fluid in his glass and then shook his head and held it up for the emperor to see. Something was wrong with his drink.

Negan didn't comment on it, just gave Daryl his own glass of red wine and took the punch himself. "Try."

Daryl sipped the new drink cautiously. Waited a second, but nothing prickled in his mouth, so he drank some more in big gulps because he was really thirsty.

"Better?" Negan watched in slight amusement how the color of his servant's cheeks changed almost immediately into a healthy, glowing pink.

"Hm." Daryl nodded at his glass and took another sip. It was much better.

"Did you drink alcohol before."

"Yes." Daryl licked a red drop off the rim. "Apple juice." 

"Mhm." Negan took the glass out of the man's fingers. "Slow down then."

Daryl wrinkled his nose and pulled his wrist, heat swirling in his chest and through his head, making him a bit dizzy. He glanced up at Negan, wanting his drink back.

A man with long, grey dreads approached the row of thrones and performed a respectful bow, smiling friendly. "Your Majesties, thank you for the invitation, it is my honor." He presented a wide, cylindrical glass container filled with small, colorful cubes, each of them wrapped in glinting foil. "I hope you will accept this little token of my gratitude. Our best confectioner made them."

It was King Ezekiel. Daryl stared at the birthday guest in disbelief. His head wasn't on a spike. He wasn't dead. He was here at the Sanctuary to celebrate Siddiq's birthday, and he didn't even seem angry.

"Thanks." Negan pursed his lips, swiping his tongue along his perfectly white upper teeth. "How is it going at home. Did the Alexandrians settle in well?"

"They sure did, my Lord. Most of them decided to stay." Ezekiel bowed his head once more. "Thanks to your generosity we will be able to build more homes for them."

"Good to hear." Negan gave the glass back to Daryl and absently started to tug the long strands at the back of his head. "Our new chamberlain here is from Alexandria as well. He might be interested to visit you in a few months."

Ezekiel tilted his head to the side, giving the kneeling man on the pillow a friendly smile. He couldn't remember him from anywhere. He had probably been a slave. "Of course. He is welcome at any time."

Daryl drank his wine in big gulps, his eyes following the King as he went to speak to Siddiq and deliver a hearty handshake. He had difficulties to concentrate and focus, but something tickled nicely from his scalp, down the back of his neck, onto his shoulders, sending tingling shivers along his spine. He leaned into the touch of long fingers massaging his head and licked the rim of his glass for almost a minute before he realized that it was completely empty. Then somebody took it from him, instead of giving it a refill. He blinked slowly, listening to all the different voices talking around him, deep laughter and cheerful music. Jesus came and kissed his cheek, sat for a while next to him with crossed legs, told a story about a lady who had almost fallen into one of the fountains because she was fleeing from a parrot that had accidentally escaped its cage. Daryl heard himself chuckle and then looked around and the beautiful servant was gone again. He glanced up at the eunuch emperor in his huge chair and wanted to ask where Paul had gone, but then didn't say anything because the gentle fingers felt so good on his head and he just leaned his hot cheek against the cool surface of the chair's armrest and after two minutes of watching the partying crowd, shut his eyes. 

He opened them again when a firm hand patted his cheek, and for a moment wasn't sure where he was. 

"Calling it a night. My fucking head is killing me." Negan got up and helped his sleepy servant to his feet. "Send Jesus to his room in an hour."

"Sure thing." Simon raised a glass of something strong in his Lord's direction, "You need some help with that one?" and gestured at the young man who seemed to have trouble to stay upright and keep his eyes open.

"No." Negan wrapped a secure hand around Daryl's wrist and waved for his guard to follow them. "See you in the morning, Gentlemen."

Daryl blinked through the long bangs falling into his face as he was dragged through the crowded room, then out through a big door, along endless, very empty hallways, up some stairs, through more doors, until the scent of exotic plants and fruit filled his senses.

He sighed when he heard a parrot greet him with a loud 'Mikey' and then blinked in confusion as he realized that the eunuch emperor in all his beautiful black armor and war paint guided him through the fountain yard.

Negan's fingers closed tightly around his servant's wrist when he stumbled for the seventh time in five minutes. He gestured for his guard to wait outside of Paul's private chambers and switched the electric lights on, looking around. "Do you sleep on the floor or in bed." 

"Hm." Daryl liked the deep, steady voice talking to him. It soothed the foggy chaos in his head. "With Jesus."

"Mhm." Negan pushed the young man down to sit on the bed. "You like Jesus?"

Daryl nodded. He liked him very much, just not the peacocks and all the girls.

"He is a good guy." Negan agreed, pulling most of the golden jewelry out of silky hair. "Did you like the party, too?"

Daryl sighed without a reason and smacked his lips, staring at the leather-clad stomach right in front of him. "No."

"How come." The number of rings, golden bracelets, delicate headpieces and shiny beads Negan put on the nightstand would have been enough to fill a small treasure chest, but he wouldn't have wanted to omit any of it, finding all the pieces equally charming.

Daryl raised his arms when firm hands pulled the thin shirt over his head. "'m bad." He had broken the law.

"Is that so." A faint smirk curved Negan's lips as he glanced down at very rueful eyes and a strand of hair that stuck out randomly. "When are people allowed to touch your body. Tell me."

"At night." Before sunrise.

Negan lowered down a bit, squinting, not sure if he had understood the mumbled answer right. "At night?" He snorted, shaking his head as he made a step back. "Get up." He pulled the man to his feet and squatted down himself, taking his pants off. "They are allowed to touch you when you fucking like them. When it feels good and you want them to touch you." He threw the thin pants somewhere to the right and shoved his naked servant back onto the bed, making him lie down. "If you don't like them you punch them in the fucking face." He tried to ignore the pale fingers innocently tugging a flaccid penis, while blue eyes stared up at him. "Right?"

Daryl nodded. He really liked the eunuch emperor.

Negan covered the smooth, pale body with a blanket and arched his brows when he bent down, propping his arms left and right on the pillow. "Are you dizzy?" He received another nod. "Our wine is strong. You feel better in the morning." 

Daryl blinked slowly and reached up, touching grey facial hair with clumsy fingers. It felt warm and rough and better than anything he had ever touched before.

Negan's headache ceased momentarily and made room for a tired smile. "Bid good night." He didn't offer his hand but was absolutely entranced by the way a soft fingertip touched his lips in fascination, while a hoarse voice mumbled something that sounded a lot like 'Salam'. He caught the finger for a second with his teeth, wagged his brows and then ruffled the man's hair as he left, switching the lights off without another word.

Jerry didn't comment on the unusual evening activity either, just followed His Royal Highness dutifully out of the fountain yard, through quiet hallways, into the Sanctuary's west wing, with a bright smile on his face.    
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be around for a couple of days, but let's 'Aftercare' a bit on Tuesday, alright?


	10. Blooming

On Thursday, Daryl woke up with a headache and an awful taste in his mouth. Jesus tried to make him feel better by brushing his teeth for ten minutes and using a lot of pretty eye makeup, but it didn't really work and he just wanted to go back to bed. 

Morning duty in the private chambers of the West Wing didn't go well either. Daryl dropped a tea glass, forgot to open the windows and couldn't find the undershirt the Emperor wanted to wear underneath his armor. He felt awful and wanted to apologize, but Negan was in a hurry and left without a comment or look back.

For lunch, the Emperor didn't come either because he was still out of town and Daryl couldn't really eat much, worried about his appointment at Dr. Stookey's house in the early afternoon. Jesus had a special training with the troops and couldn't come with him, so he sat all alone on the cold metal table, and got tortured with two needles instead of one because the doctor wanted to take a blood sample before he gave his patient the next testosterone shot. 

Daryl held his tears back all the way to the fountain yard, shut the door of Paul's room and applied a thick layer of the cooling ointment on his burning thigh, before he buried his face into a pile of velvet cushions, wishing Denise could stroke his hair.

He cried quietly for 16 minutes, making his headache worse, and then fell asleep without meaning to. It was already dark outside when he woke up again and needed a moment to realize that he had missed dinner and would be late for evening duty. He didn't check his appearance in the mirror and ran as fast as he could through the maze of hallways, doors, and rooms to the West Wing, making all his golden jewelry jingle.

Jerry smiled friendly and opened the door for him. The electric lights were on in the study and Negan sat at the desk, working. He finished his letter to the proconsul of Augusta and even then just briefly looked up.

"You're late."

Daryl tried to catch his breath, not sure what to do. There was already a silver tray with tea on the desk and the Emperor had taken his armor off and wore casual clothes. He wanted to say that he was really sorry, but then just crouched down next to the fireplace, lowering his head in shame. His thigh hurt badly and he rubbed it, feeling a little ill and very hungry.

Negan worked for half an hour, sipped his tea in between and only glanced up when the loud rumbling of his servant's stomach broke the silence. He wrote another three sentences, then flipped through his notebook. "Come here."

Daryl was so relieved to hear a command, that he got up instantly, not even caring that he might be punished for all the mistakes he had made that day.

Negan pointed to the free space next to his chair, pleased when the man knelt down in perfect posture. He took a stuffed date from his tray, "Open." and shoved the dried fruit unceremoniously between smooth lips, watching as it was timidly chewed. "Did you miss dinner?" He got a nod and copied it. "Mhm. I don't like that. I asked you to eat three times a day." He took another date, fed it as soon as the first was swallowed and loved how this time it was taken eagerly, the silky, wet tip of a pink tongue brushing his finger for the split of a second.

Daryl had never eaten dates before and he didn't know what they were stuffed with, but it tasted awesome. He also liked that the Eunuch Emperor talked to him and that he was allowed to sit so close to the desk. It made him feel better instantly.

Negan took a candied pecan and shoved it to the date into the young man's mouth, watching him eat. He studied the slightly rumpled outfit, smeared makeup, tousled hair, a missing earring and a large oily stain on the right leg of thin, crinkled pants. "Have you been to the doctor for your shot?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded and opened his mouth for more food.

Negan fed a third stuffed date, wiping a tiny piece of pecan out of the corner of his servant's mouth. "Does it hurt?"

"Hm." Daryl stopped chewing for a moment, pointing to his thigh. It hurt a lot.

"It'll get better. Use more of the ointment before you go to sleep." Negan pinched a smooth chin and went back to work, finishing two more letters and a comission for new power lines. He fed a few more pecans, not looking up and enjoyed the intentional contact of his fingertips with warm, wet lips.

After 28 minutes he held his tea glass out, "Drink." and didn't comment on the fact that it was emptied without hesitation in four big gulps and dutifully placed back on the tray. He took a handful of pecans and wrapped them in a napkin. "You didn't do your best work today." He handed the small package over, speaking with firm voice and eye contact. "Go to bed now. Tomorrow you do better."

A big lump of guilt dropped into Daryl's stomach as he stared up into dark eyes. "Yes, Sir." The words were spoken in timid voice, but they came out all on their own.

"Mhm." Negan didn't seem surprised at all, casually smoothing a stray strand of silky, long hair down. "Say it louder."    

The heavy lump in Daryl's chest got wrapped into something very hot and tingly. He shrunk two inches deeper into the floor, smacking his lips nervously, but held shy eye contact. "Yes, Sir." 

It didn't sound any louder the second time, but Negan liked the effort and graveness behind. "Six o'clock. Tidy appearance." He held his hand out. "Bid good night." 

Daryl slid a bit closer in his kneeling position. There was a fresh white bandage around the man's wrist, and he reached out to touch it, cautiously. Maybe the horse had bitten again. He glanced up worriedly and then pressed his lips to the beautiful golden ring, whispering, "Good night." He added the words 'My Lord' secretly in his head but didn't dare to say them out loud. Still, a long finger spread from the offered hand to stroke his smooth jaw.

"Sleep well."

\----

On Friday, Daryl was sent to run some errands for the Emperor and luckily the beautiful servant was allowed to come with him. He even carried the long list of tasks, because he was the better reader.

They went past the guards at the main gate outside into the city and visited the upholsterer to order a couple of new floor cushions for the Emperor's private rooms. In dark blue velvet. Then they went to the tailor because Negan wanted Daryl's measurements to be taken. It was a strange procedure where Daryl had to stand on a small stool and spread his arms straight to the left and right, while a person with measuring tape, notepad and pencil walked around him, saying "Mhm, mhm." every few seconds, nodding his head. Daryl didn't like it and was glad when it was over and they left. 

On their way back to the Sanctuary, Jesus suggested taking a slight detour so Daryl could see a bit more of the city. The amphitheater, a school, something that looked like a tower without door, a very big fountain, a bakery with open windows that smelled really good, a candlemaker, three more public meal places, a blacksmith, the huge place with the flagpoles and emperor-statue, a hospital and a weird, dome-shaped building made of glass. There was also a park, much bigger than the one in Alexandria. It had playgrounds for children and a lot of the high trees with the slender stems instead of knobby oaks. Daryl liked it. Just like all the people carrying baskets with fruit and vegetables, to offer them to the residents in town, like a gift, for free. Jesus greeted everyone with a friendly 'salam', took an apple from the first person, and a bunch of grapes from the next. He fed two of them to Daryl and sat down on a wooden bench, right next to some beautiful flower beds.

Daryl sat down as well, looking around the huge city park as he opened his mouth for another grape. There were a lot of children on the playground, laughing and running around, and young women sitting in the grass, feeding babies or reading to their toddlers. Alexandria didn't have so many children, and most of them played at home because there was no playground in the park.

"It's dedicated to the first Emperor and his wife." Jesus spoke with full mouth, pointing around with his apple to a piece of old brick wall in the middle of a lawn. It was surrounded by a low golden fence and blue flowers. "They found a baby over there, you know back in the days when people were still eaten by walkers and they had no food and clean clothes. They kept the child and later after they founded the Sanctuary, they wanted to honor this place forever and turned it into a park for the children of the new world."

Daryl took a bite of Paul's apple, looking worried. "Did they eat the baby?"

"No." Paul chuckled, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged. "They saved his life and built a home for him." He gestured with his apple to the silvery shining building that towered mightily over the whole city. "They named him Negan. It is Persian for 'good destiny'."

Daryl didn't say anything to Paul's story, but he thought about it all the way back to the palace and for the rest of the day. Especially in the evening when he entered the private chambers of the West Wing to start his service. 

It was already dark outside and he knelt on the floor to take the Eunuch Emperor's heavy combat boots off, glancing up at the dirty, sweaty man sitting in his big leather armchair. He looked really very beautiful in the dim, orangy flickering light of the brass lanterns.

Negan massaged his forehead with two fingers, trying to soothe his migraine and then squinted when his servant suddenly stopped mid-task to take his boots off and instead stared up at him with big eyes. He stared back, head propped on thumb and forefinger, smiling faintly. "Should I sleep in fucking armor?" He pursed his lips, the smile climbing up to reach his tired eyes as the young man snapped out of his silent admiration and shook his head before he dropped it, fumbling with the buckle of a heavy leather boot. 

Negan had never placed much importance on the Persian royal customs and court ceremonial his parents had established over the years. Whether he had somebody to assist the disrobing or if he did it himself had never made much of a difference to him. Most days he even preferred to be alone in his rooms after a long day of work. But for some reason, he didn't mind to have his new chamberlain around. He liked to enter his private rooms in the evening, greeted by the pleasant scent of all the skin oils, lotions, and perfumes used in the fountain courtyard. And admittedly, he enjoyed the company of his silent servant, who still struggled to adapt to his new surroundings and tasks. It was refreshing to watch such an unspent, innocent mind trying to understand the world around him, with no attempt to hide his true self, wearing his heart and every emotion or intention clearly visible on his sleeve. 

Like now, after he had managed to take both boots off, but didn't get up right away because he openly admired the smudges of dust and dried mud on bare, hairy legs like an exciting gift he had finally unwrapped.

"Did you eat all your meals today?" Negan spread his legs an inch wider and loved the happy flicker in blue eyes, revealing pure gratitude for being spoken to.

"Hm." Daryl straightened his back a little and held his head high to display the pretty new jewelry Jesus had put on his head. "'n fruit." 

"What kind of fruit?" 

It was a simple question but hard to answer, and Daryl fumbled insecurely with his right earring. "Apple." He wasn't sure what the other fruit was called even though he had seen it before at a celebration when the Governor had turned 50. He held his hand up, forming his thumb and forefinger into a small circle to show the size. "Green fruit."

"Grapes." Negan kept a straight face. "Where did you get them?"

Daryl pointed towards the door. "The park." Where the Emperor had been when he was a baby. 

Negan nodded. "Fruit is handed out for free here all day long. It's important that people eat healthily."

"Yes." Daryl agreed, even though he didn't know anything about healthy eating.

Negan smirked, rolling his tongue behind closed lips. He nudged the young man with his stretched out leg. "What did you do today besides running errands for me." He adored the way his servant scratched his forehead, making a strand of hair stick out awkwardly beneath his golden jewelry.

"Feedin' birds." Daryl shifted on his ankles, lowering his voice because it cracked a little and he felt embarrassed. "Washin' with Jesus 'n secret trainin'." After lunch and then he had fallen asleep for an hour on the floor of Paul's room because he was so exhausted.

"Very nice. I like that you do training on your own." Negan nodded, making a mental note to talk to Bob again about his chamberlain's vocal cords. "What did you do? Push-ups?"

"Yes." Daryl soaked the small praise up like a sponge, so glad that he was able to tell the Eunuch Emperor about his awesome training. "Thirty." A tiny smile curved his lips and he pointed a shy finger at Negan's knee, reminding him that he had ordered to do thirty.

"Look at you. Good job." Negan got up with a sigh, feeling every minute of the past 14 hours in his bones. He ruffled Daryl's hair, pulling him briefly against his bare leg. "Tomorrow you do two more. Just for me." He patted a smooth cheek and went towards the bathroom. "Now put those dirty boots away and help me out of my armor, I need a fucking bath."   

\----

On the weekend, the Emperor wasn't there. He had left town to visit a community in the east and attend a founding celebration. Jerry and Jesus had gone with him, as well as a girl from the fountain yard, two of his generals, Siddiq and a small group of soldiers. Daryl felt heartbroken and lonely, spending most of the time alone in Paul's room, except for the meal times and one visit at the doctor's office for his testosterone shot, that left him to feel even worse and kind of ill.

On Sunday, two of the giggling girls offered to wash and dress him since Jesus wasn't there, and he agreed because he didn't want to look bad for Negan's return. But then, once he was naked and in the bathtub, he was very uncomfortable with the way they touched him and talked to him. They kept asking about girlfriends and his job at the women's quarters back in Alexandria. Then Trisha wanted to know if he would want to see her breasts and if he had ever pleasured girls before.

Daryl said yes to both but then felt angry and avoided his eyes when she took off her thin, purple shirt and encouraged him to touch her nipples. The other girl chuckled at Daryl's behavior and then both laughed when he climbed out of the tub and left the room, back into Paul's private chambers.

He wiped his wet eyes and threw some of the pillows against the wall, grunting angrily. He wanted to punch the silly girls and wished Jesus would come back to wash him like it was supposed to be, without bare breasts and nipples. But even after dinner on Sunday evening, Jesus wasn't back and when Daryl returned to the fountain yard at 8 o'clock, three of the giggling girls were occupying the blue sofa. Naked, and one had her legs spread while the two others serviced her. 

"Michael, there you are..." Tanja glanced up with hooded eyes, not taking her mouth off Amber's quivering inner thigh. "We were looking for you. Do you want to join us?"    
Daryl made a step back, wrapping an arm across his chest. "No." His answer sounded rough and angry, embarrassment making his ears glow. He glowered at the group of women when they started to laugh and turned around to run away. Preferably to the stables or out of town, but then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to do that and Alexandria didn't exist anymore, so he just went to the West Wing to wait for the Emperor's return.

As soon as he entered the dark study and empty bedroom, however, he felt very guilty, not sure if he had been bad. Pleasuring girls was part of his job back home, especially when female guests came to town. Maybe it was his duty here as well. There was no birthday party that he was supposed to enjoy and the girls hadn't touched him, just asked. What if they told the Emperor about it and he was punished for his rude behavior. He didn't want that. But he didn't want to go back to the fountain yard either, sure that the naked girls would make fun of him.

He stood in front of the big, dark bed for almost five minutes, pondering his options, angry with himself and the whole situation, before he decided to at least make amends by preparing everything for the Emperor's return. He lit the candles in all the brass lanterns, he set up the bathroom, put out something casual to wear, made tea and arranged seven stuffed dates on a small silver plate. Then he folded the bedding back and waited for twenty minutes in silence but nothing happened, so he got into position for push-ups. Face down, legs together, his elbows close to the body. Maybe if he did thirty and three extra, the Emperor wouldn't be so angry.

When Negan arrived back at his private chambers at almost two in the morning, he found the room illuminated, his bed and bath prepared, a tray with cold tea on the nightstand and a sleeping young man on he floor next to the entry, his makeup smeared, his hair damp with sweat, his lips slightly parted, collapsed after 33 correctly performed push-ups.

It was a nice surprise after two days of stress, traveling and not enough sleep, and he didn't even consider to wake him up and send him back to the fountain courtyard. Instead, he covered him up with a thin blanket, poured himself a glass of wine, sat down in his leather armchair and watched his peacefully sleeping servant for half an hour, listening to his even breathing.

\----

On Monday in the early afternoon, the door to the Emperor's private study opened and the capital's best upholsterer entered with a polite bow in the direction of the desk where a tall man sat over a pile of work.

"The floor cushions?" Negan glanced up briefly.

"Yes, my Lord." The man smiled humbly and bowed once more. "I hope they are to your liking." 

Negan gestured with two fingers. "One here, the other in the bedroom, next to the door."

"Of course my Lord, as you wish." 

Daryl flicked his head to get a long strand out of his eye and watched in curiosity how several men followed the upholsterer through the rooms, carrying heavy, dark blue velvet pillows. He moved a bit to the side as one of them was placed opposite from Negan's desk, while the other was brought into the bedroom. He craned his neck but couldn't see its final destination.

The men said their farewell with another polite bow in Negan's direction and left. Daryl looked from the closed door to the new pillow and then up at the Emperor, wondering if he was allowed to kneel on it.

Negan flipped through the pages of his notebook and wrote something down, keeping his eyes on his work. "Try it. It's yours. I have no use for servants with fucking bladder infection." He went through five long reports about agricultural production and surplus before he glanced up after more than an hour and allowed a slight smile to curve his lips, seeing a young man hunched over on a thick, dark blue cushion. His knees pulled up underneath his chest, cheek on the soft fabric, totally lost in thought as he quietly recited a military cadence he had overheard at the morning drill.

\----

On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, Daryl spent his afternoons outside, after he had discovered where the cavalry's training ground was. A big fenced-in riding arena with sandy footing on the left side of the barracks. 

On the first day, he kept his distance and stood underneath one of the weird slender trees to watch the training. He could hear all the commands and the cushioned thump of the horse's trotting. 

On the second day, when he realized that nobody paid much attention to curious servants, he went up near the fence and watched from there. It was close enough to smell the horses and hear them panting. 

On the third day after lunch and a visit to the doctor's office, he didn't feel very well because his leg hurt, but he heard a familiar deep voice shouting, ''Prepare to mount! One! Two! Three!" from the riding ground, so he went there and this time climbed on the fence to sit on it, because the Eunuch Emperor himself was there, sitting high up on his huge black mare, directing 24 young soldiers on horseback. He didn't wear his armor, but the regular uniform. Tight black pants with thin red stripes along the outer side, a black shirt with the Empire's red emblem on the back and polished black riding boots. In addition, he wore one black glove on the right hand, studs in his ears and a bit of kohl around his eyes. Daryl knew that already because he had seen the Emperor coming back out of the bathroom this morning and had handed him his uniform instead of the fantastic leather armor.

"During attack, order and fucking cohesion are the principal factors of success! It is of great importance that the attacking line presents to the enemy the appearance of a fucking solid and unbroken body!" Negan rode slowly back and forth in front of his men who were all lined up, shoulder to shoulder on their horses, facing him. "The effectiveness of an advance in line should, therefore, be judged from its appearance from the front or rear and not from a flank!" 

Daryl watched, absolutely mesmerized. It was all so different from what he had seen in Alexandria. Other than Mister Grimes' troops, the Empire's horsemen were a combination of light and heavy cavalry, each soldier equipped with a primary long range and a secondary melee weapon, riding bareback for maximum flexibility. And while it appeared as if they were outfitted just in plain uniform, they were actually clad in razor-thin full body armor, made of a special polymer material that was able to withstand blades, bites and any form of projectile. Daryl had learned that by now, and he also thought the black armor-uniform looked very nice, especially on the tall, beautiful commander, who seemed to be completely in tune with his horse, guiding it confidently and effortless around the riding ground. His back straight, chest lifted, head up and shoulders dropped, his hips moving with the mare's natural motion.

Daryl sat on his place on the fence for more than an hour, watching the squadron practice different formations, draw weapons, mount and dismount, or follow unspoken commands that were given via hand signals. He liked all of it and tried to memorize as much as he could, soundlessly mouthing the words along when the Emperor gave a new instruction. 

"A-tten-TION!" Negan emphasized his command with the appertaining hand signal. "Return arms! One! Two!"

Daryl copied the movements made, pretending to lower his invisible weapon back into its scabbard, wishing he could sit on one of the awesome horses as well and wear a uniform just like the soldiers... and then felt a little bit disappointed when a gate was opened and all the soldiers got off their horses, saluted their commander and left the riding ground to lead their horses back to the stables. He looked after them, considering to follow and maybe help with all the cleaning and feeding. Maybe he would even get an apple again.

"Is that where my peacock builds his nest now?"

His head snapped around and he almost lost balance on his spot on the fence when a deep voice hollered in his direction. It was the Eunuch Emperor coming towards him, up on the big black horse.

"Salam." Negan came up close to the fence, pulling the reins just slightly and pressed his legs in, making Lucille halt immediately. "How's your leg, cadet. Are you in pain?"

Daryl stiffened when an enormous black nose nudged his arm. "No." He shook his head, avoiding his eyes because a thin sheen of fresh sweat covered the back of the Emperor's neck, glistening in the afternoon sun. It looked pretty.  

"Good." Negan used his knees to urge his horse a step forward and held his hand out. "Keep me some company then."

Daryl glanced up in surprise and then eyed the offered hand distrustfully before he took it and slowly climbed off the fence. Maybe they would go to the chickens again.

"No. Up here. We ride." Negan moved two inches back and wrapped his fingers firmly around a pale wrist. "Chop chop. Climb higher up and swing your leg over."

Daryl froze instantly and tried to pull his arm free, shaking his head. He didn't want to be on the horse. He couldn't ride and it was really very big.  

"Why not?" Negan kept his tone casual and moved Lucille closer to the fence.

"'s no saddle." Daryl wrinkled his nose in distress, feeling his knees tremble when a strong hand pulled him over anyway. He clawed five fingers into Negan's shoulder and in an awkward motion moved his leg over the horse's broad back, his bare foot bumping clumsily into black fur and a long mane.  

"Right. We don't need a fucking saddle." Negan was absolutely entranced by the true fear and quivering body he dragged close, surprised how fragile and soft the man felt sitting between his legs. He felt as insecure as he looked. "We wanna feel the horse, right?"  

Daryl didn't answer. It seemed as if he was a hundred feet above the save ground and the horse's warm, bristly hide was clearly noticeable through the thin fabric of his fluttery pants. Strong arms went around him, one to hold the reins, the other looped around his waist, holding him securely. He held his breath and then flinched startled and wrapped his fingers in panic around the leather reins when the horse started to move, swaying dramatically. He was sure they would fall off at any second.

"Ksst." Negan squeezed his lower legs, urging Lucille to get into a slow walk. "Rule number one, hands off the fucking reins. You hold yourself up here with your hips and thighs, not with your hands." He left the training ground towards the back area of the Sanctuary, ignoring the curious looks he got from some of the soldiers. "No tensing. Sit loose." He put his hand flat on Daryl's lower belly, pressing once. "Straight back, lean against me." He pulled the young man another inch closer against his body, loving the powdery scent of oils, lotions, and soap surrounding him immediately. "Good. Let your arms hang down."

Daryl's mind was racing, blood pumping through his veins in pure agitation. He let his arms hesitantly sink down and tried to follow the instructions, feeling the Eunuch Emperor's warm, solid body behind him and the bunching and flexing of muscular thighs against his own. The black shirt of his uniform was slightly damp with sweat, a bearded chin rested against his hair and he could feel warm breath on his cheek. And with every movement the horse made, Negan's middle pressed against his butt. It felt strange and new and so wonderful that tiny sparks swirled through his whole body, prickling everywhere. He really wished Denise could see him right now, riding like a real soldier on a big black horse with his new friend the mighty Eunuch Emperor.

"Very nice." Negan could feel how his timid servant relaxed a little and put a hand down on the man's inner thigh, giving it a gentle but firm push to make him open his legs a bit more. "You don't do fucking anything, just allow her motion to move your hips." He gave some pressure with his left leg, urging Lucille in another direction, then made her walk just a little bit faster. "Feel what my hips are doing. They drop individually."

Daryl could feel it, along with a thousand other things that made his heart pound faster. He huffed a breath and turned his head a little to the side, trying to see the close face next to his ear. The Emperor smelled really very good, even without his leather armor.

"Eyes front, cadet." Negan raised his voice a bit, saluting two soldiers who were on horseback as well, both grinning at him with a friendly 'My Lord'. He ignored it. "Concentrate on my fucking hips. Feel when they drop and when they come forward. Do the same." 

Daryl tried to do something with his hips but wasn't sure if it was right and then felt his stomach flip and grow hot when a deep, silky voice spoke right into his ear, making his skin tickle with warm breath.

"Good job, that's how it works. The seat of a good horseman is at all times independent of the reins." Negan brought his hand back on the man's flat belly, fanning out his fingers over the thin fabric of a broad waistband. "You want to go a bit faster now?"

Daryl nodded, not even thinking about a different answer. The Emperor's broad palm felt so good on his belly, exerting slight pressure, while a firm thumb rubbed his belly button. It made him spread his thighs a bit wider, wishing the wonderful long fingers would cuddle him like Jesus always did it. 

"Alright." Negan nudged Lucille into a trot, holding his servant safely by the belly, helping him to stay in position. "Don't hold on with your calves. Sit back. Legs loose." 

Daryl held his breath, startled for a moment when the movements of the horse changed completely.

"No tensing. You don't wanna fucking bounce, you wanna move with her." Negan pushed the man's belly button in, making him sit back deep. "That's better, head up." He was impressed how fast the tension and fear seemed to melt away and his servant just gave in, letting his body do whatever it was required to do. "You like it?"

Daryl nodded. "Hm." He liked it a lot. Riding felt awesome and he even smiled proudly at an older man who carried a big wooden box of carrots, glad that somebody saw what he was doing.  

"Good. Siddiq will give you some riding lessons then." 

Daryl wasn't sure what else he could probably learn because he was already doing so well, but if he really needed another lesson he rather wanted the Eunuch Emperor to teach him. He turned his head, accidentally bumping his nose into rough facial hair.

"What." Negan bit back a smirk. "You don't want fucking riding lessons?"

"You can show me." It was a grumpy suggestion in low, rather defiant tone and Daryl quickly avoided his eyes after staring at the other man's lips for two seconds. They really looked nice.

Negan chuckled, amused by the effect he had on his servant. "I'd love to, boy, but I have no time. I have to run a fucking Empire and eat all the dates you serve me." He arched his brows, smiling when Daryl looked back at him. "Right?"

"Hm." Daryl blinked through his silky bangs, not returning the smile because he was too distracted by all the grey stubble and dark, glinting eyes.

"Mhm." Negan patted the man's belly, whispering against a smooth cheekbone. "Eyes front, cadet."

The heat from Daryl's stomach wandered up towards his face as he turned his head and stared at the horse's black ears, trying to concentrate on the movements of his hips and keeping balance. It was difficult, though, because a big hand kept pressing his lower belly whenever he lost the right position and when he did sit correctly, gentle fingertips stroked his stomach rewardingly. After a few minutes, the Emperor started telling about his horse. How old she was, how well they had bonded from the very beginning and what a great partner she was on the battlefield. Daryl listened in fascination, enjoying the deep voice vibrating through the man's broad chest against his back.

They didn't ride back to the barracks, instead, Negan brought Lucille to a halt near one of the Sanctuary's side entrances and held his servant securely by the upper arm to help him get down. "Go a bit to the auditorium before dinner. Hershel will talk about the legal framework here."

"Hm." Daryl rubbed his butt through the thin fabric of his clothing, then tugged the seam of his crotch, not sure why they couldn't ride some more. Learning about law didn't sound very exciting.

"Good." Negan smiled faintly, holding his hand out with the palm down. "Say thank you for the ride, my Lord."        

Daryl glanced up for a second and then instantly dropped his head insecurely, touching the back of long fingers with his lips, unsuccessfully trying to get words out.

A huff of warm breath dampened Negan's fingers. He waited a moment, then repeated his command in low tone. "Say thank you for the ride, my Lord."

Daryl closed his eyes, keeping his lips pressed to a golden ring with a pretty teal gem as he mumbled a quiet, "Thank you. " He exhaled nervously, holding on to Negan's bandaged wrist. "My Lord." He kept his eyes closed and head down, relief and pride flooding his chest when a big hand came down on his hair and praising words rewarded him.

"Good job!" Negan turned his hand to cup a smooth cheek, then pinched it twice. "Thank you for keeping me company. I see you tonight."   

\----

The morning after his sixth testosterone shot, Daryl felt weird when he woke up. 

He had dreamed of the Emperor's broad hairy chest and long fingers stroking through his hair, and now something inside him tingled like a nest of tiny ants and a drop of pee had come out of his penis, staining Paul's bedsheets. He took a deep breath but the tingling wouldn't go away and even made the muscles inside his butt twitch. He sighed irritated, feeling a bit warm, and ground his backside against Paul's crotch. 

"Mmh." Paul inhaled the scent of Daryl's hair and nuzzled his face into it, still half asleep. He liked when his days started with a nice cuddle session and wrapped an arm around his bedmate, pulling him closer. "Good morning, Mikey." He kissed the warm skin of Daryl's neck and reached down to fondle the man's soft genitals, surprised when he found a bit of wetness. "Uuh, you had a nice dream." He spread the drop around with his thumb, kissing below Daryl's ear when the man opened his thighs wider. "Tell me about it."

Snuggling with the beautiful servant always felt nice but this morning Daryl liked it especially. He wanted to be touched but wasn't sure where and how. A dull pulsing and throbbing went through his body, making his heart beat faster and his skin tingle as if he would get goosebumps. Then it all pressed down with heat and a weird ache in his lower abdomen, letting his butt contract again and again like it was searching for the silver placeholder. He huffed a deep sigh and whimpered a little, turning his face into the pillow and then turned around in the other direction to hug Paul really tight and bury his nose into the warm crook of his neck.

"Mmh." Jesus purred, sold on an early morning humping. "You dreamed of His Excellency, didn't you..." He took the ragged breathing into his hair as a yes, gently rubbing Daryl's bare butt as the man rutted erratically against his thigh. "Happens to me all the time." He nibbled on a glowing earlobe, his own dick growing much too hard inside his chastity belt. "And to all the girls out there. But they never get their itch scratched since I am around." He chuckled, biting teasingly into Daryl's jawbone, then caught the man's face in both hands, studying flushed cheeks and dazed blue eyes. "Man, I really want to kiss you."

Daryl panted slightly, staring at the beautiful servant, his brain a mess of strange thoughts and pure confusion. 

"But I can't." He smirked, placing kisses on the man's smooth cheeks and chin instead of his mouth. "I have a feeling His Majesty wouldn't like that."    

Jesus chuckled again and Daryl didn't know why. He didn't know either why he felt so restless and sensitive all day. In the bathtub, he grew frustrated, just as during all the dressing and makeup process. He didn't have patience for the peacocks and cawing parrots and glowered angrily at Trisha who brushed another girl's hair while fawning over the Emperor's muscular neck and shoulder area and how awesome he looked in a white t-shirt. He wanted to throw the glass bottle with the brown liquid after them, but Paul still needed it because it was his favorite perfume.   

At morning duty in the West Wing, he walked a bit straddle-legged, feeling odd and tingly when he helped the Emperor into his tight leather armor. Then, later in the study sitting on his new floor cushion, he couldn't stop to fondle himself and was scolded twice because it was distracting for Negan while he tried to read through his paperwork. 

At breakfast, the same happened, but this time Siddiq reminded him that touching genitals in public wasn't an appropriate thing to do. It all grew into a little argument because Jesus didn't fully agree, until everyone had to leave for a lecture at the auditorium. 

The lesson was about governance and leadership, and Daryl tried his best to concentrate, but when the wise old docent in his long white tunic mentioned the name Negan and spoke about how a true leader had to carry and present himself, the frustrating tingling started again and a hot flush shot through his body downwards between his thighs, so he had to press them tightly together.

"Anyone who wishes to lead must be the best in all of these things." Hershel said, looking at his class. "Whether it is fighting, teaching, hunting, talking, drinking..." He paused a moment. "Even lovemaking. He has to be the best and always lead by example. Why else would all these men follow him and treat him with faith, trust and respect."

Daryl didn't know the answer and gave Paul a look of pure misery because he felt a little ill and rather wanted to go back to the fountain yard and apply a bit of cooling ointment on his thigh even though it didn't hurt.

In the evening he didn't even realize that he was touching his crotch again, when he just stood at the side while the Eunuch Emperor spoke to one of his Generals and a guest in the audience hall. But Negan saw it and waved with two fingers, making "Ksst." to stop him. Later for disrobing and evening duty, Daryl didn't fondle himself but he tugged the seam of his crotch a couple of times, wishing the Emperor would say something about his awesome pants, but he didn't. And then when he had to carry the tray with pecans, strange brown crackers and full teapot across the room, he accidentally dropped it and in his overall frustration cursed and gave the wet silver tray an angry kick, making it shatter against the bedpost.

"HEY!" Negan got up from his desk and crossed the room in four big steps, grasping his servant by the upper arm. "What the fuck are you doing!"

Daryl didn't look up and didn't say anything, just stared at the mess he had made, chest heaving, his nostrils flaring with rage and a bit of weird sadness that almost made his eyes wet.     

"On your fucking place until I tell you to get up again!" Negan pointed to the cushion next to the door and then raised his voice again when the order wasn't followed immediately. "NOW!"

Daryl flinched and ducked his head, all of his rage and frustration melting away in an instant to make a lot of room for shame and guilt. He knelt down on his bedroom-floor-pillow, gave the tall Eunuch Emperor a last guilty glance and then quickly lowered his eyes.

Negan stared down at his servant and nudged his knees apart with his foot. "Hands next to your legs. Palms up. No fucking touching yourself. Think about respectful behavior and appropriate service." He watched for a moment, making sure the posture was correct and then left the room, going back to his desk.

Daryl did. First he cried quietly for six minutes, feeling like the worst person in the world, but then the Emperor came back to sit in his leather armchair to read through all the court decisions, instead of doing it at his desk, and it made him feel a little bit better, except for the fact that all the tea and weird crackers lay on the floor and the Emperor had nothing to drink now.

After exact 45 minutes, Negan put his documents to the side, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Get up." He waved two fingers. "Come here."

"Hm." Daryl rose to his feet, feeling his heart pound in his ears. 

"Down." Negan spread his legs a bit more, making room for his servant to kneel between them. "Apologize."

Daryl glanced up and almost instantly lowered his gaze again. "'m sorry."

Negan leaned back, studying the rueful person on the floor. "What for."

"Bein' bad."

Negan nodded, rolling his tongue against his upper teeth. "What have you done?"

Daryl looked up, pointing at the teapot and soaked crackers. "'kicked your stuff."

"Mhm. Working here is a privilege. I have to trust the people who come in here to a hundred fucking percent." Negan reached a hand out, grasping Daryl's chin with two fingers. "You clean that mess up now and finish your service here, then you go back to your room." He arched his brows, holding the stern look for a moment. "And tomorrow you show better behavior in my fucking private rooms."

Daryl pulled his fingers in his lap, trying his best to hold eye contact. "Hm."

Negan squinted slightly, gritting his teeth.

It made Daryl shrink an inch deeper into the floor and correct his answer in an almost-whisper. "Yes, Sir."

"Mhm. Say it louder."

Daryl cleared his throat nervously, shifting on his ankles. "Yes, Sir."

"Good." Negan gave a nod and released the smooth chin. "Clean." He watched for 21 minutes as his order was obeyed, told his servant to make fresh tea, told him to prepare the bed and finally got up, holding his hand out. "Bid good night." 

Daryl felt relieved that his evening duty was over and that he was still offered the Emperor's ring for a kiss even though he had been so bad. He crouched down on the floor and held on to the bandaged wrist with shy fingers, leaning in to gently touch his lips to the back of long fingers. He wanted it to be a good kiss, so the Emperor would praise him again and not be angry or upset anymore. "g'night." But it wasn't so easy to get the required words out. He glanced up and kissed the fingers a second time, adding a quiet, "My Lord." to his good night wish.

Negan looked down and watched patiently, spreading one finger out to rub it up and down a smooth jaw. "What's your name?" Blue eyes glanced up at him in bewilderment, the simple question clearly taking the young man by surprise. "What, you don't have one?" He smiled, touching the golden jewelry that was braided in his servant's shiny hair. "Should I call you Michael?"

Daryl dropped his head and shook it, feeling embarrassed. Denise had been the only one to use his name in the past years and he wished it would be a better one. A pretty one like Paul or Negan.

Negan sighed, squatting down. "Who are you." He tugged the thin fabric of a turquoise tunic. "Tell me."

Daryl wrinkled his nose underneath his longish hair, keeping his eyes down. "Daryl."

"Daryl?" It wasn't at all what Negan had expected, but he liked it and nodded once. "That's a good name. Sounds right. Much better than fucking Michael." He took the man's face in both hands, leaning in close to kiss a prettily adorned forehead. "Have a good night, Daryl."

Daryl held his breath and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling confused and very happy when he got up and walked towards the door.

"Sst." Negan smiled as his young servant turned around and touched his forehead, in awe that it had been kissed. "Do 40 push-ups before you go to sleep and 40 when you wake up. It'll make you feel better."

"Hm." Daryl even would have agreed to carry the scary peacock birds through the whole palace if it would have made the Emperor happy.

Negan waited until shy fingers touched the doorhandle, then whistled once quietly through his teeth, just to make him stop again. "And two extra. Just for me."  
 


	11. Evening Entertainment

Daryl scratched his head, tousling the shiny hair above his ear in the process, when a tall man in spectacular leather armor and black war paint passed the small, round training ground, spurring his black mare into a full-out canter, its pounding hooves digging deeply into the soil. 

He really wished he could ride with the wonderful Eunuch Emperor again instead of doing silly training lessons with Siddiq and the weird grey horse. It wasn't as big and mighty as Lucille and just stood around as if it was very tired.

"Okay, I'll show you again." Siddiq positioned himself into a wider stance and grabbed a bit of mane. "You hold on and push off with your left foot." He took a small running leap and swung his leg over the horse's back, mounting without difficulties. "You just need to get momentum and swing yourself up." He jumped down again, handing the reins over. "Try it."

Daryl was still exhausted from the 42 push-ups he had done secretly in the fountain yard this morning but he didn't want to say that because everyone else training around the barracks was so fit. So he tugged the seam of his pants and took the reins into a loop as Siddiq had shown him. The old riding boots he had received were a little bit too big but wonderfully black and scuffed because a soldier had certainly worn them during battle and his fluttery blue pants looked really pretty with them. That's why he made a proud step, grabbed a bit of grey mane and tried to jump up. It didn't work, though. The horse moved a little and even at the second and third try, he couldn't get his leg up far enough. He cursed a bad word that Denise would have scolded him for.

"It is the right technique but you hesitate too much." Siddiq put a hand on his student's hip, bringing him back into position. "You have to really want it. Like you're in a hurry and you need to get away because the enemy is around the corner. Don't think about it, just jump up."

The scenario sounded very exciting. Enemy soldiers chasing him through the woods and he needed to flee to warn the Emperor. Daryl really hoped he could do that one day.

"Try again. Left foot."

He took a deep breath and curled his fingers around the handful of leather reins and mane and then bounced off as hard as he could, swinging his leg over the horse's back. Siddiq helped a little bit, but for the most part he did it himself and felt like a true elite soldier once he sat up high on his horse.

"Great!" Siddiq patted the man's thigh. "That was good!"

Daryl smiled proudly, wishing Negan had seen him do it.

\----

After 19 repetitions of mounting and dismounting bareback, a bit of Equine anatomy, 40 minutes of learning how to develop a secure seat and strong center of balance, and finally half an hour of actual slowly walking around the training ground in a circle, instructor Siddiq wrapped up the first riding training and sent his student back to the stables for a bit of horse grooming.

Daryl enjoyed leading his horse across the barrack yards and held his head extra high when the Empire's complete 1st Infantry division returned from their three-mile run, passing him in thunderous lockstep. 460 men in full combat outfit, shouting a military cadence. It made his stomach tingle. He was almost a little bit one of them. 

The grey horse followed him patiently into the stables and he secured it with a loose knot at the wall. It all worked well. He even remembered how to use all the brushes. First the rubber one, then a hard-bristled brush to remove all the loose hair and dirt, and a very soft one in the end to make the coat shiny. He was very concentrated and worked his way from the neck to the barrel and all the way to the rump, then repeated it on the other side. He brushed in short, flicking motions, trying his best to whisk all the dirt out and then stopped mid-task when two soldiers entered the stables, both chuckling as they walked past him. He looked back over his shoulder, not sure if they laughed because of him. 

They chuckled again, shaking their heads in his direction. "Princess makes her pony pretty." 

A small scowl graced Daryl's features, his brow creasing slightly as his adorned earlobes grew hot in embarrassment.

One of the men raised his voice a little, addressing the chamberlain directly. "Don't forget the hooves, missy!"

Daryl watched them vanish to the far end of the building where they started to gather some horsetack. He crinkled his nose underneath his long bangs, feeling crushed and angry. Of course they made fun of him. After all he had just a small, lazy horse and nobody else wore blue eyeliner and pretty golden jewelry on the training ground. He didn't even have a black uniform, just his fluttery blue pants and the silly tunic. The crease between his perfectly defined brows drew tighter as he dropped his head and stared at his well worn, scuffed riding boots, hearing the men laugh again, certainly about him and his outfit. He grabbed the hoof pick out of his grooming kit and tapped the horse's leg, then squeezed it when nothing happened. He cursed something under his breath and tried again, curling his fingers around the bony part of his horse's leg, pulling as hard as he could. But the animal didn't move, just swished its tail from side to side, hitting his face.

"Careful, lady! Don't break your nails!"   

Daryl heard the men laugh. It let rage curl in the pit of his stomach and a growl rumble out of his throat. He pulled the restive leg once more, earning an unhappy snort from his horse and more giggles from the other end of the barn. His jaw clenched and his fingers coiled around the hoof pick before he whipped around, hurling the pointy metal tool with all his strength across the room, missing one of the soldier's shoulders just by a hairsbreadth.   

"Are you daft?!" Private Andrews touched his shoulder in shock, while private Donahue almost doubled over laughing. 

"Princess is feisty!"

Daryl grunted, his cheeks growing hot with shame and anger. He grabbed another tool out of his bucket and wound up to throw that too, aiming for the man's silly laughing face, when a strong hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice.

"Hey!" Negan squeezed once painfully, causing the metal mane comb to fall to the ground. "What the fuck is going on here!"

Daryl shot one startled glance at the tall man suddenly standing behind him and instantly dropped his head.

"Nothing, Sir." Private Donahue stood at attention, his eyes fixated on a random spot on the wall, his facial expression blank. 

Private Andrews next to him needed a moment longer to get into the right position and soundly clicked his heels together, holding his chin up and back extra straight. "We were just checking on the horse tack."

"Mhm." Negan let go of Daryl's wrist and instead squeezed the back of the man's neck gently, just for a brief moment, before he slowly sauntered towards his soldiers, his face dark, lips fixed into a grim line. "You have a problem with the fashion your deceased Empress established here?" He could see the effect his calm words had on the men when their eyes widened and jaw muscles clenched just slightly. "You have a problem with guys wearing fucking make-up?" He stared at private Andrews, making sure he saw the black kohl around his eyes. "You wanna comment on your commander's masculinity based on the fucking jewelry he wears?"

Both men shook their heads, doing their best to press out a confident 'No, Sir!'

Negan brushed the tip of his tongue along his teeth, slowly, taking his time to scrutinize his nervous soldiers. "Go, report to Seargent Ford." He made a step back and waved his hand. "Both of you intern at the tailor for a month. Come back when you've learned to treat my people and the fucking customs of our society with respect."

"Yes, Sir!" The men saluted and turned to leave, marching off with a polite nod towards the Sanctuary's chamberlain. 

Daryl looked after them, fumbling with one of his golden earrings and then dropped his gaze when the stern Eunuch Emperor came back to him, the hoof pick in hand. He really didn't want to work at the tailor. He wanted to stay at the palace and serve tea and dates. "'can serve tea." He said it quietly and his voice cracked a little, but he hoped the Emperor would accept his offer.

The stern tone was gone from Negan's voice when he answered. "Yes, you can." He patted the horse's neck, then bent down and squeezed its tendons, making it raise its foot instantly. "You can also pick his hooves." He scraped the metal pick through the dirt stuck in the inner part of the hoof, showing how it's done, then released the leg and handed the tool over. "His name is Max. Treat him well. He is one of my favorites." He pinched a smooth chin and patted the horse's neck again before he turned to leave, raising his voice just when he was about to exit the building. "And I fucking love your outfit, cadet!" 

Daryl flicked his head to the side and touched the delicate golden jewelry adorning his forehead, his eyes lighting up with pride. He liked the Emperor's outfit as well. Very much.    

\----

By lunchtime, Negan craved a twenty-minute rest already more than the hot chicken curry served at the canteen. One hour of morning drill, two hours at his desk over hard decisions and 90 minutes of even harder cavalry training. He looked forward to sitting down and relax for a moment. Especially when he found a free spot next to his brother, who sat across from the Sanctuary's newest chamberlain.    

He answered the humble 'My Lord' coming from at least 15 people around him with a firm, "Salam!" and sank down on the rug, sighing as he placed his tray in front of him. The curry was steaming, fresh out of the pot, so he took a piece of bread and ate that first, listening to the current conversation. Apparently, the topic was the reproduction organs and body functions of eunuchs.

"No, they can't feel anything." Ben was sure, speaking with full cheeks because he loved chicken curry. "I mean that's the whole point, right? They are used for sex but the pleasure is reserved for their owner."

Siddiq disagreed. "In the old days the point was to have a guy watch over the women in a harem without the risk of him trying anything funny or getting them pregnant." He swiped his last piece of bread through the sauce. "Today, there's no point at all. It's torture."

"I think they still feel something." Jesus wagged his brows and nudged his nose against Daryl's adorned ear. "Right, Mikey? You just can't get hard."

Negan watched the young chamberlain who obviously couldn't have cared less about the inappropriate conversation and just shrugged with a blunt 'Yes' because he was much more interested in all the fantastic meat on his plate after two hours of physically demanding riding lessons. "Th." He chuckled, shaking his head. 

"The absence of the testes doesn't deprive a man of the ability to achieve an erection, Paul. It just takes a bit more effort." Old Hershel stirred the tea in his brass cup.

"Historically, in fact, eunuchs were famous lovers, very much desired due to their beauty and preserved youthful looks." He tapped the small spoon against the brim of the cup then placed it carefully on the tray. "They also enjoyed great influence in the Imperial Court and often held powerful positions."

Daryl glanced up with big eyes, forgetting to chew his chicken. Now he knew why the Emperor was so mighty and beautiful. He looked at the pretty, tall man sitting across from him, all relaxed with one leg bent in front of his chest, his wrist resting on his knee, and then blushed violently when Negan smirked and cocked a dark eyebrow at him. He quickly dropped his gaze, but ate the next two minutes with a slight smile on his lips. He was so glad that he was a eunuch like the Emperor.

\----

The afternoon wasn't as exhausting as the morning had been, but the lessons at the auditorium felt like they would go on forever. Learning about coconut trees and the different uses for coconut shells made Daryl tired and he didn't even have a seat at the window where he would have been able to watch the events in the palatial courtyard. Apparently the troops prepared for a mission and he really wanted to know more about it, but when he craned his neck for the fifth time in an attempt to see anything, old Hershel suggested that his newest student would maybe like to prepare a presentation about coconuts that he could hold in front of anyone in a week.    

Daryl was so shocked about the task that he still felt a little nauseous when they left the classroom.

"Don't worry, I'll help you." Paul's jewelry jingled when he put an arm around Daryl's shoulders, leading him through the endless maze of doors, stairs and hallways towards the fountain yard. "I have some old notes somewhere in my cabinet, you can use them." He snagged a grape out of a fruit bowl that stood randomly on a hip-high marble column and popped it into his mouth. "But not tonight, His Majesty wants you to join him at the theater."

Daryl wasn't sure what that meant, but he liked how Jesus washed him from head to toe, sprayed something on his hair to make it wonderfully soft and shiny, dressed him extra nicely and applied pretty blue and dark green color around his eyes. There was a lot of golden jewelry all over his body when Paul was done with his work. Two thin rings on his fingers and one on his toe, bracelets around his wrist, a delicate chain braided into his hair, along with three golden beads and a very small peacock feather that shimmered prettily in the light, dangling on the left side of his head. For a change, the longish strands that normally covered his ears were pulled back and held in place by a loose knot at the back of his head, to bring attention to all the glimmering studs and small, thin creoles adorning the rims and lobes of pale ears. 

He looked into the mirror and tugged the seam of his dark blue pants, liking that the broad waistband was low enough to reveal his bellybutton. He looked almost as beautiful as Jesus and he held his head up proudly all the way out of the Sanctuary, hoping the guards and servants would notice his bellybutton, even though it had no golden ring like Paul's.

It was already dark outside and several horse carts waited at the entrance. Daryl hesitated when a guard held a hand out to help him inside the last one. He looked around in search for the Eunuch Emperor but he couldn't see him, and then suddenly Paul was gone as well. Instead, two of the giggling girls got with him on the cart, one whispering something into the other's ear as the cart started and left through the huge black-golden metal gates and out into the city. 

All the narrow streets and houses were illuminated by metal torches and brass lanterns, making everything look like the fountain yard at night. Daryl liked it but he didn't feel very well, because he had no idea where everyone was going. There were seven carts in front of them and two guards on horseback following, along several streets, past the park and the weird glass building, through a part of town that Daryl hadn't seen before, until everyone stopped in front of a huge, multi-storeyed, oval building. It had no roof but its arcaded façades were elaborately decorated with marble and stucco and the torches in every arch of the structure, flickering in hints of orange, made it look like a giant brass lantern out of Paul's room. 

A guard helped first the women and then the shy chamberlain off the cart. Daryl stopped and absently tugged the seam of his pants as he looked up at all the black and red flags waving above the entry. There was loud music coming from somewhere inside the building, trumpets and drums, and crowds of people swarmed through the main entry. Everyone seemed happy and was prettily dressed in colorful tunics and jewelry. 

Daryl didn't know where to look first when he was brought inside, along with two other servants and the women, up a few stairs and through a narrow corridor. There was a central performance area downstairs in the middle of it all, surrounded by seating tiers. At least three thousand seats, most already taken. He walked slowly, nervously looking around for Jesus or anyone he knew, but other than the giggling girls he found no familiar face.

"Good evening." A stocky guard with battleaxe and friendly smile held a thick, black curtain to the side and gestured for Daryl to walk through. He hesitated. It was a balcony-like space almost on ground level, partly shielded from the public eye. Dark red carpet clad the floor and several plush cushions lay scattered around five heavy, black armchairs. They were all taken. One by a woman from the fountain yard, one by Siddiq, two by high ranking generals, and the one in the middle by the Emperor himself, sitting with one leg stretched out and one foot up on the edge of the seat, his wrist resting on his knee, as he spoke to the man sitting next to him.

Something flipped and tingled in Daryl's belly. He was so glad to see the Eunuch Emperor and went closer, but then stopped insecurely, not sure what to do.

"Yeah, I guess so." Negan chuckled at Simon, shaking his head and then briefly glanced up at the young man standing in front of him. He didn't greet him but held his hand out to offer his ring.

Daryl huffed a nervous breath and tugged the lobe of his adorned ear, awkwardly sinking to his knees.

"Well, I don't know." Negan gestured with two fingers to his general and took a glass that was served to him. "Maybe it pays off." He sipped his wine and looked back at Daryl who shyly reached for his wrist and mumbled an almost inaudible 'My Lord'  when he brushed warm lips against the back of his fingers. A smile softened Negan's features. "Salam. Thank you for joining me." His chamberlain looked especially stunning tonight, clad in peacock colors with a nice sprinkle of gold all over. He caressed a smooth jaw with one finger and then gestured to the black velvet cushion next to his chair, expecting the man to kneel down.  

Daryl did, relieved that he wasn't sent anywhere else. Although he wished that the Emperor would have given him a bit more attention, instead of talking to Simon and Siddiq all the time. He glanced up, in awe of his leader's appearance. The tight black leather armor seemed to be molded on his defined chest, ropy veins stood out on his forearms, fine dark hair all over, his biceps moving beneath tanned skin, his hair and beard freshly trimmed. Black kohl matching the color of the small shiny studs in his earlobes, that were accompanied today by one thin golden ring gripping the edge of the upper part of his ear. Daryl loved all of it and sat extra straight when all four men broke out into happy laughter, deep and booming, letting the corners of Negan's eyes crinkle, before suddenly all the lights and noise changed and a roar of cheers and applause went through the crowd, everyone rising from their seats as the subtle background music changed into a real song that dominated everything. 

Hoards of male dancers in black and gold outfits entered the oval stage in the center of the building. They ran and jumped and twirled, every move emphasized by spotlights.  
  
Daryl forgot to breathe. The loud beats of the music thrummed through his body as he stared at the show unfolding right in front of his eyes. 120 dancers moving in perfectly choreographed unison, hard and aggressive, in a way he had never seen before. And in the first row was Jesus, his face serious and concentrated as he performed a mixture of modern belly dance and martial arts moves, just like all the other dancers, thick black kohl around his eyes, his hair up in a bun. It was so exciting that Daryl raised up on his place on the cushion and craned his neck, brushing some hair out of his eyes. 

After a few minutes when the first song was over and all the dancers moved into a new formation for the next part of the show, the audience was so hyped and yelled so enthusiastically that Daryl felt like crying and laughing at the same time, completely captivated by the emotions around him. He clapped his hands as everyone else and looked up at Siddiq to his left and the Emperor to his right, happy when they both applauded as well. They had certainly spotted Jesus among the dancers.

The newest show at the capital's huge amphitheater was an energetic mix of acrobatic spectacle and infectious songs, keeping the excited audience off their seats from the first song to the very last beat.        

Negan was pleased. By the entertainment and his company. Rarely he had gotten the chance to experience one of the Empire's famous shows through the mesmerized eyes of a new resident, a former insurgent, who had never seen anything but the small world he was born into, where he was held like a pet with just one purpose. It was refreshing and kind of moving, especially when during a more heartwrenching song and matching dance performance his chamberlain's blue eyes glazed over with tears, overwhelmed by all the sadness the song transported. The corner of his mouth tipped up and he reached out to tickle the back of the man's smooth neck, using the opportunity to feel silky long hair.

Daryl sniffed his nose and glanced up at Negan, wanting to tell him how sad it was that the dancer with the black beard had fallen on the battlefield and would never go back home to wish his little brother a happy birthday. But then he forgot all about it when the Emperor looked back at him with a faint smile, gentle somehow, just as the long fingers caressing his neck and hair. It felt good and then even better when blunt fingernails lightly scratched his scalp, making his skin tingle all over and his belly heat up. He took a deep breath, followed by another one that came out more shattered, and leaned into the touch while he searched for eye contact and pointed at his bellybutton because it was exposed and looked pretty.

Negan's smile got brighter and then changed into a slow, sexy smirk as he leaned down over his armrest to speak into a prettily adorned ear. "Should I get you a nice ring for that?" The hint of soft lips and rough stubble ghosted over a pale ear. "Would you like to wear one for me?"

Daryl's heart made a weird jump before it started to pound like crazy. A deep voice rumbled into his ear, warm breath tickled him and wonderful pictures of golden jewelry in his bellybutton popped into his mind. He really wanted that very much and nodded quickly, his heart stumbling again when the Eunuch Emperor answered with a gravelly chuckle.

"Alright then." Negan enjoyed the sweet scent of longish hair a moment longer before he sat back up again, sipping his wine, while his fingers kept on caressing the back of a warm neck and the fine baby hair he found there.

Daryl shifted on his knees, finding it very hard to concentrate on the new dance performance in the orchestra. The nape of his neck was tickled, the pads of slightly cool fingers traced the rim of his ear before they toyed with one of the small, delicate rings pierced through his upper ear. It made his toes curl and prickling goosebumps spread along his arms and shoulders, down his spine and up his neck. He huffed a breath, the tip of his tongue coming out briefly to wet his lips. And when the teasing hand suddenly stopped and left, it had created a constant pulsing deep down in his body, that he tried to soothe helplessly by pressing himself into his floor cushion and moving his pelvis. His penis twitched once strangely beneath the thin fabric of his pants and he squeezed it, feeling a hot blush creeping over his cheeks and behind his ears. He crinkled his nose and looked up at the Emperor but wasn't given any attention. Instead everyone watched the show with greatest enthusiasm as the dancers were joined by several male singers and people on black shiny horses, taking the performance to another level.

Siddiq got off his seat to applaud and sing some lines along with the rest of the crowd, while a serving girl brought more wine for everyone and small cups with a white, stiff pudding.

Daryl didn't receive anything and he gazed longingly at the tall man to his right who laughed at something Simon had pointed out and took a hearty gulp of his red wine. His other hand hung down over the armrest of the chair in the most relaxed manner. Long fingers with broad golden rings, fine dark hair and pretty veins covering a slender wrist and defined forearm. Daryl stared at it and squeezed his penis again, irritated by the throbbing in his lower belly. He pressed his thighs together and didn't really think before he nudged the tip of his nose against the back of Negan's big hand. Twice. It smelled good and after a moment granted his silent wish to proceed with its actions.

"You bet your low hanging balls!" Negan laughed, clanking his glass with Simon's, and blindly slid his fingers beneath the silky long strands in the back of Daryl's neck. He caressed the man's soft skin, gently tugged his hair, curled a strand around his finger and then turned around when he felt warm breath against the inner side of his arm and his chamberlain leaning heavily into his touch.   

He met the desperate look out of blue eyes and a faint smile moved over his lips seeing how Daryl fondled himself through his thin pants, not sure what to do with the obvious arousal heating up his body.

He pursed his lips, just slightly, and shook his head, scolding with an amused cock of his eyebrow. "No." He leaned down over the armrest, close enough to share the scent of the wine he had consumed. "Don't touch yourself. Put your fucking hands down on the pillow, next to your legs."

Daryl furrowed his brows, clenching his inner muscles, then tensed his thighs. He exhaled audibly, placing his arms by his sides as he was told and then felt his abandoned, shrunken genitals twitch once more in a really strange way, when the Eunuch Emperor praised him in deep, very low voice and a warm mouth kissed a spot behind his ear.

"Good job." Negan couldn't deny his own interest as he allowed himself a brief taste of incredibly soft skin. It tasted so sweet and smelled so fucking pure that a shot of raw desire churned through his stomach, suggesting a long hard fuck, preferably right now. "Spread your knees wider." Of course that wasn't an option, but he kissed the smooth little spot below a pale ear again, parting his lips a bit this time to add some moistness and a well-placed groan full of relish. "Back straight. Show me that gorgeous bellybutton." 

A hot, wet tongue nudged Daryl's earlobe, bringing dark, gravelly words along to mix up with damp breath and rough beard. He felt teeth softly clanking against the delicate creole adorning the rim of his ear when it was teasingly scraped. He heard the Emperor inhaling deeply as if he was smelling something really good and then held very still and clawed ten fingers into the thick velvet cushion when soft lips pressed against his ear.

"Fuckin' pretty boy." Negan nipped the man's adorned lobe once more, "Distracting me from the show." and sat up again, drinking a big gulp of wine as he pulled one of his feet back up on the seat. God, he was horny.

Daryl touched his ear and then quickly put his hand back down as he was told, even though the urge to squeeze his genitals was pretty bad.

The lighting in the arena changed along with the music when the performers got ready for the final part of the show. All of the dancers lay on the ground, face down, their bodies slack as if they were dead or had fallen into deep slumber, just to come slowly alive again with the new thumping beats of the music. Mightily booming drums and a musical instrument that Daryl had never heard before. But he remembered the taste of red wine when the wonderful Eunuch Emperor held a glass in front of his lips to offer a sip. It was delicious and after six minutes he nudged the man's arm again with the tip of his nose, happy when he was granted some more wine and even a spoon full of the stiff, white pudding that everyone ate out of small cups. It was creamy, sweet, and cold like snow in winter. It startled him at first, not sure if it hurt his tongue, but for the second scoop, Negan put the full spoon into his own mouth, took a bit of the cold food off and fed the warmed up rest to Daryl. It tasted much better that way.

The show at the capital's amphitheater was over after almost three hours, leaving the crowd happy and euphoric as they slowly exited the building, everyone talking about their favorite part or performer. Daryl wanted to walk out with the Emperor, but before he could say that or knew what happened, a guard came and escorted him through a back door and some long corridor, together with another servant and two women.

The night air felt still warm and smelled nice, and the steady clanking of the horse's hooves and the gentle rocking of the cart made him realize how tired he was, no matter how much he wanted to look around in search for the beautiful dancing servant and the Emperor.

The journey back to the Sanctuary seemed to take forever and he almost fell asleep a few minutes before they arrived at the big iron gates. A different guard helped him off the cart and escorted him and the women to the fountain yard. He went to Paul's room, chased one of the big peacock birds out and didn't even undress, just curled up in the mountain of pillows and cushions on the floor. He fully intended to wait for Jesus to come back, but his heavy eyes lost the battle against sleep after only four minutes.

\----

It was still dark and quiet except for the faint gurgling of the fountain and a distant rustling of a parrot in its cage, when Daryl woke up. He blinked his eyes open and stretched his legs, automatically looking towards the big bed at the other end of the room. It was empty and didn't look used. He sat up, scratching his temple. It was already three in the morning. Maybe Jesus was still at the huge lantern building or he hadn't gotten a place in one of the horse carts and now had to walk all the way home. Maybe he couldn't find the way. Maybe he was scared.

Daryl scratched his head again and got up, padding with bare feet out of the room and the dark fountain yard, glad when the parrot didn't say anything. His jewelry jingled faintly through the empty hallways as he made his way through the Sanctuary, up several stairs, through heavy doors, into the private West Wing. He would tell the Eunuch Emperor what had happened and ask him to help Jesus.  

Jerry had his eyes closed and chin down, using his battleaxe as support to have a little nap, standing against the wall, but was wide awake instantly when the young chamberlain tried to tiptoe past him to the Emperor's private study. He smiled and yawned at the same time, opening the door in a polite gesture.

Daryl was glad that his late-night visit at His Majesty's bedchamber wasn't questioned. He went through the dark study and wanted to knock at the next door, but then decided against it because the Emperor was a light sleeper and would certainly wake up just from being greeted. He opened quietly and stopped in the doorframe, dumbfounded by what he saw. The room wasn't dark. Several lanterns and candles bathed it into a dim orange light. And the Emperor wasn't asleep or sitting in his armchair. He enjoyed anal service. Not in bed under a blanket like Mister Blake had always done it, but upright against the wall, wearing only his boots and the black leather strap around his upper arm.  
Daryl stared for a moment, not sure what to do, and then went to his place on the velvet pillow in the corner, kneeling as he was supposed to when he waited for further commands.

For a while, he looked at the tray with candles on the nightstand, but then curiosity won and he glanced over to the wall, fascinated by the things happening. He had never seen anal service done like this. The Emperor stood there in a firm stance with his fantastic warrior boots, his arms braced against the wall, pounding his hips vigorously. It made all the muscles in his body tense and move, his buttcheeks and thighs looking firm and hard. He was all sweaty and stared into his servant's eyes. It was Jesus, naked, with his legs tightly wrapped around the Emperor's waist and his arms around the man's neck, an overwhelmed, almost pained expression on his face. Then he sobbed out loud and let his forehead fall against the Emperor's broad shoulder, panting and gasping, digging his fingernails into sweaty flesh.

Daryl shifted on his ankles, feeling a little bit hot and like he needed to pee.

Negan pumped harder, curling his hips to strike the right spot and then groaned satisfied when Paul answered with a shocked grunt and hungry kiss, mewling into his mouth. He was a fan of quick, hard fucks, just letting loose, slamming his lover against the wall without all the sweettalk and fondling the girls always insisted on.

"You want permission to cum, boy?" He broke away from Paul's lips, pressing their foreheads together, the breathless moans music to his ears.

"Yes, please, Sir." Jesus sounded desperate, he knew it and didn't care, clinging to Negan as he thrust into him without mercy.

"Oh yes?" Negan growled, pushing into the man's ass as deep as possible, biting his lip. "Who's the only one you shoot your fucking load for?"

Jesus whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. "You, my Lord." He couldn't do anything to stop the wave rolling over him, making him tremble and his body flex, his thighs quivering against powerful hips.

Negan grunted in approval and then instantly felt his balls draw up and his dick swell when his heavy lidded gaze fell to the side and he saw a young man on a dark blue velvet pillow, staring back at him with needy eyes. He was kneeling, but with his upper body bent down, resting on the cushion, his pale face looking feverish, his lips parted just a bit, as he rocked himself rhythmically back and forth, one hand hidden between his thighs.  

Negan's breathing turned ragged, locking his gaze with the unsuspected surprise in his room. He groaned and cursed, the most filthy words dripping off his tongue as his own release blasted through him, his cock pulsing and throbbing, his body quaking. "God damn." A chuckle rumbled through his sweaty chest and he turned to kiss his lover's neck, then scraped it with his teeth, chuckling again. "Needed that, you little fucker."

Jesus smiled, firmly caught in post-coital bliss. "You split me in half, Sir." He purred, licking a drop of sweat off Negan's neck. "That means no morning drill for me, right?"

"Mhm." Negan smacked Paul's bare ass, "Keep dreaming." and pulled out, easing him back down on his feet.

Paul pressed a kiss to the man's damp upper arm, smirking. "I'll get something to clean you up, Sir." He fished a piece of his clothing off the ground and smiled in surprise when he saw his roommate hunched over on one of the floor cushions. "Oh hey, Mikey! I didn't hear you coming. " He ruffled silky hair and vanished to the bathroom.

Daryl looked after the stark naked servant and sat up, flicking his head. He squeezed his penis once, feeling a bit lost and then dropped his gaze in bewilderment when the tall Eunuch Emperor walked through the room. With awesome black warrior boots, a hairy chest and muscular thighs. No pants at all, unashamedly presenting bare genitals. A thick, long penis and impressive balls behind.

A startled gasp pressed out of Daryl's throat, his thoughts running criss-cross in his foggy mind. He glanced up and immediately down again, his eyes flickering from left to right before he turned away, mumbling something incoherent to noone in particular. He covered his eyes even though he already faced the wall. The Emperor was a liar. He just pretended to be a eunuch. He wasn't castrated. They were not the same.

Jesus came back out of the bathroom, wearing a robe that hung a little big on him. "My Lord." He handed Negan a damp, musky smelling towel. "Would you like a drink?"

Negan took it, wiping first the back of his neck, then his sticky stomach. He pressed a brief kiss to Paul's forehead, looking serious. "Be good and leave us alone for a moment. I'll see you in the morning."

A warm smile softened Paul's features. "As you wish, Sir." He took a small bow and quietly left the room.

Negan finished cleaning himself, went into the bathroom, came back out in a thin black tunic to his long combat boots and poured himself a glass of water. He took a sip before he approached the man crouching on the floor cushion. He could tell that he was crying even though he couldn't see his face. He pinched his nose, squatting down. "Why did you want to see me in the middle of the night." He reached out to touch the man's shoulder when he didn't get an answer and was immediately shrugged off. Harshly. With a furious grunt that sounded more upset than angry. "Mhm." Negan kept his voice calm. "Don't do that again." He waited a moment, granting time to let his warning sink in. "Turn around and answer my question. Why did you come here in the middle of the night."

Daryl didn't want to turn around or answer the question. He didn't want to do anything but leaving the stupid Empire and the silly palace. But the Emperor didn't repeat his order, just waited and watched right behind his back. It made him even angrier and after 140 seconds he mumbled a stubborn answer, wiping the wetness from his eyes. "'for help."

"What did you need my help for, boy."

The words sounded patient and friendly, soothing the rage in Daryl's chest slightly. At least enough to let him answer again. He sniffed his nose. "Findin' Jesus."

"Sometimes he spends a night here." Negan paused, tilting his head. "Are you upset because I fucked him?"

Daryl took a breath through his stuffy nose, his bottom lip trembling. He slid an inch closer to the wall, wishing he was alone and Alexandria would still exist.

Negan waited ten silent seconds, "Why are you upset." but was denied an answer. Instead his hand was slapped away when he put two fingers on a heaving shoulder.

"GO AWAY!" Daryl heard the weird high-pitched tone of his voice and his throat stung instantly, not used to produce such a loud noise.

"Hh." A smile that held no real amusement moved over Negan's face. He got up and in the same second grabbed the expensive velvet cushion, pulled it out underneath his servant and flung it across the room. "Up!" He didn't wait for it to happen, just dragged the startled man to his feet, pushing him face first into the wall. "You want a cozy pillow under your ass, you fucking behave!" He put a firm hand on Daryl's shoulder, prohibiting him from too much squirming.  "You wanna continue being a rude fuck, you spend the rest of the night staring at the fucking wall!" 

Daryl wanted to protest and try to run away. But the Emperor yelled really loud and his shoulder hurt already from the rough fingers holding him in place. He didn't want it to get worse. So he stopped squirming and just stood still, trying to suppress the heavy sobs forcing their way out of his throat. 

Negan waited a moment before he took his hand off, stood for a while in warning silence behind his chamberlain, and then left, allowing some privacy and time to calm down.  
He went through a couple of lists that Simon had put on his desk earlier, picked a few pieces of jewelry and clothing up that Jesus had scattered across the room in the heat of the moment, drank the rest of his water, checked something in his weapon cabinet and ate two dates and a pecan, before he took pity on the sniffling servant crying bitterly in the corner. He whipped a tissue out of a silver box and brought it over, leaning with a sigh against the wall. "Here." It was accepted without real hesitation but not used to wipe a wet face or runny nose, instead Daryl just held it in his hand, keeping his gaze down.

"You don't wanna answer my question?" Negan took the tissue back, but the man grunted and flinched as soon as he came near his face with it. He sighed again, cupping the back of Daryl's head with a firm hand to hold him in place. "You hate me that fucking much?" He wiped wet cheeks, none too gently, and was surprised when he received a slight nod this time. He paused a moment, arching his brows, then cleaned his servant's nose. "I see." He nodded, pursing his lips. "Well, that's just fuckin' sad." He pushed off the wall and threw the damp tissue onto one of his dressers. "I was hoping you like me." He tried to keep any hint of amusement out of his voice. "Thought we could be friends."

Daryl sniffed his nose, his eyes flickering nervously underneath his long bangs. He felt a bit guilty, but it served the Emperor right that he was sad now. 

"Just out of curiosity," Negan exhaled dramatically as he sat down in his leather armchair, starting to unlace his boots. "What have I done to deserve your hate. Fed you too much fucking ice cream at the theater? You have a stomach ache?" A brief smirk played around his lips when his chamberlain looked down and touched his stomach as if he had to check, before he shook his head with a very low, but at least spoken 'No.'

"Hm." He nodded, pulling his left boot off. "Then what did I do. Tell me, cadet." 

The answer was already on Daryl's tongue, but he needed 28 seconds to gather his bravery and had to wipe his teary eyes twice, before he actually said it. Anger and pure dismay in his hoarse voice. "You're not like me."

It wasn't an answer Negan would have expected. His fingers stilled for a moment on the top buckle of his right boot before he took it off and got up, returning to his place at the wall. He leaned casually against it. "You wanna be like me?" 

Daryl didn't answer and didn't like the way the Emperor stood so close and looked at him. He clenched his fists at his sides, chewing his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"What makes you think I'm different."

He listened to the question and felt mocked by its casual tone, making it seem as if it wasn't plain obvious. It hurt him and he raised his head, looking the Emperor in his fake, kohl painted face. "You have balls." 

The accusing answer in gruff voice took Negan by surprise. He chuckled, "You got that right, boy." and then cocked his brow at Daryl's angry face. "So what? You don't like my fucking nutsack?" He earned a grunt for his question and a fist attempting to punch his chest. He caught it effortless, "Stop!" and waited a warning minute with icy stare before he released it again. "What made you think I am castrated."  

Daryl didn't say anything but didn't look away either. He didn't try to hide his disappointment or the betrayal he felt. He didn't even wipe his face when his eyes welled up again. He just pointed up at the beautiful black kohl around wonderful dark eyes.

Negan didn't interfere, didn't smile and didn't comment on it. But he studied his young chamberlain for a long time. Then nodded, pinched a smooth chin and left to put the velvet cushion back on its place next to the door. He equipped it with an additional pillow and a thin, white blanket. "Lie down. It's late." He went into the bathroom and was pleased when he came back out again and found his order obeyed and a young man curled up on his rightful place. He took a piece of candy wrapped in green tin foil out of a glass container and squatted down. "I don't wear fucking make-up because I'm a eunuch." He unwrapped the candy and shoved it between slightly blushed lips, puffy from crying. "You wear it because of me. You always have. The insurgents adopted some customs from us because they like the beauty of it." He thumbed the last remains of wetness off Daryl's cheek, loving how soft the man's skin felt. "I like the beauty of it. That's why we both wear it." Blue eyes gazed up at him with pure astonishment. "And the only difference between us is that I am a fucking leader and you are the one who follows. Not because I tell you to, but because you're born to do so. You're god damn fucking good at it." He brushed a strand of hair out of a pale forehead. "It's not important if you have big balls, tiny fucking marbles or nothing at all down there. It's not what makes you a good person or a real fucking man. Doing the right thing does. Taking responsibility for your fucking actions and your environment. Being as good and courageous as you can possibly be. That's what makes you a man." He arched his brows, nodding once. "Right?"

Daryl wasn't sure if it was right, but he really wanted it to be. He also wanted more of the terrific candy and opened his mouth in a silent request.

Negan chuckled, patting a smooth cheek. "Just one. Treats are special." He got up with a sigh, feeling the lack of sleep from head to toe. "But you were right to think that we match up well." He went to pour a glass of water, took a big gulp and brought the rest to his servant, squatting down again. "I do, too." He gestured for Daryl to sit up and held the glass for him so he could drink, and genuinely loved everything about it. Big eyes looking at him the whole time, the way Daryl exhaled soundly through his nose while drinking, and the little smear of chocolate left on the brim of the glass, topped of by a mumbled 'thank you' and the not very graceful act of wiping a wet chocolate-mouth with the back of a smooth wrist.

"You're welcome." He smiled, holding his hand out. "Will you bid good night or do you still hate me."

Daryl looked from the offered hand up into the Emperor's face and back down again, needing not very long to make a decision. "G'night." He held on to Negan's wrist and shyly pressed his lips to the back of long fingers, lingering longer than usual. He inhaled their scent and kissed again, a different knuckle this time, before he placed a third kiss on a broad golden ring to add an almost inaudible 'My Lord' to his Goodnight wish. But even then he didn't let go, wanting to feel it all a little bit longer. 

Negan let him, just crooked his index finger and slightly brushed its knuckle against soft lips. "Sleep well, boy."  

 


	12. Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something in between, inspired by the incredible muse of my dude Dan, aka @ironybluegoat, who will forever be the prince of Neryl *takesabow*

 

The night before the troops embarked on a new campaign, Negan always reminded his men to get as much rest as possible. In their own bed, after a good meal and long fuck. And he tried to do the same, even if he found it hard to shut his brain off and relax. 

Fucking Jesus against the wall definitely helped. 

Waking up to the sight of his pretty chamberlain waiting in front of the bed with a robe and glass of tea wasn't bad either. 

Watching him do all his morning chores was a thing of beauty, even though he wasn't very graceful for someone with such a dolled-up appearance. First, he stumbled over his low hanging pants, then he pulled them up much too high, all the way over the navel. He spilled a bit of tea and licked it off his fingers. And he crouched down on the floor in a really awkward manner to pick up all the pecans he had dropped, cursing the most innocent swearword Negan had ever heard. It made him smile and pause in the doorway when he came out of the bathroom, wearing only the tight black underwear he preferred underneath his armor. He watched a moment longer, enjoying how Daryl squatted with widespread knees and dutifully picked up each nut separately, making sure there wasn't any dust or dirt on them. 

"Do it later." Negan made a mental picture of the pretty scene and went to get his armor out of the wardrobe. "Help me with the buckles first."

Daryl put the candied pecan he held between two fingers back down on the floor and got up, wiping his hands into the very thin material of his pants. He felt a little bit excited. He knew the Emperor and his troops would go on a mission today. Certainly with all the horses and weapons, fighting a real battle. And of course, they would win. The Emperor always came off victorious. Everyone knew that. He just wished he could go with them and be one of the soldiers, helping Negan with more than just his boots and armor. 

"Make them tight." Negan put one of his vambraces on, holding his arm out with the underside up. He liked the way his chamberlain handled his armor. Reverently, but with a true amount of exhilaration, as if he was allowed to finally play for a moment with the cool toys for older kids. He didn't mind that Daryl lacked practice, or that his touch seemed a bit clumsy at times. It was charming somehow and a joy to watch. The nicest distraction he could wish for right before a military operation.

Daryl curled the tip of his tongue against the corner of his mouth, fastening the last buckle of the vambrace, then immediately proceeded with the protector for the other arm. The scent of leather mixed up with warm skin and recently used soap. He liked it. Just as the noise the leather made when he pulled the straps as tight as he could.

"Thanks." Negan adjusted his left vambrace just slightly, before putting the chest piece of his armor on. He got the pauldrons in place and then just stood there, straightening to his full height, enjoying soft fingers working the fasteners at the front of his leather chest protection. "What have you done in Alexandria when Philip didn't need your service." 

Daryl glanced up and quickly dropped his gaze when he realized that he was watched with a slightly amused smirk. "Hm." He shrugged, his cheeks blushing as he pulled the leather buckles in the middle tight and all the wonderful dark chest hair and hard pecs vanished underneath black leather. He knew he wasn't supposed to stare but Jesus hadn't told him where he should look instead, and Negan's chest was really very pretty and smelled like man.

"Tell me, cadet." Negan held the black leather strap up that he always wore around his right upper arm, expecting his servant to put it on him. "Have you been busy doing push-ups all day?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, his eyes glinting with pride. He had done a lot of push-ups, secretly. "At the park." 

"Very good. And what else did you do." Negan fisted his hand twice, making the muscles along his arm stand out, entirely on purpose. "Did you grow a little garden with pretty fucking flowers?" Oh, what he would have given to see that.

"No." Daryl huffed a nervous breath, his fingers trembling slightly as he wrapped the smooth leather band around a flexed biceps and tanned skin, sticking the end through the gold buckle. "Paintin'."  

"Oh yes?" All the thin, shiny golden rings braided into silky hair caught Negan's attention, just as the pretty colors accentuating blue eyes. He gave the young man by his side a slow, very appreciative once over. "What did you paint?" Clumsy fingers stilled on the leather band around his arm and he loved the shy look he got.

Daryl wetted his lips, raising one shoulder against his adorned ear. "Porcelain." Once he had painted a gruesome walker on a dinner plate, but Denise hadn't liked it.

"Have you been good?" Negan's gaze traveled to his chamberlain's chalky pink lips, tipping his head to the side, wondering how they would taste.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, taking his fingers off the Emperor's arm. Instead, he nestled insecurely with the fabric of his fluttery pants, wanting to tell about all the awesome dishes he had painted, but then no word came out under the twinkling stare, looking at him like a tiger stalking its prey.

"Mhm." Negan leaned in close and wagged his brows, smirking. "Say, yes my Lord."

A small crease formed above Daryl's nose. He dropped his head, mumbling a quiet answer. "Yes, my Lord."

Negan chuckled under his breath, pinching a smooth chin. "Very well. Do my eyes then." He patted the side of his leather-clad hip as he went to his vanity, searching for a specific jar between all the products he owned. "Come here." He picked up a silver jar, put it back down and chose a brass colored, small container with lid. "Here." He found the brush he preferred and put both items into Daryl's hands. "Sit with me." He straddled the backless leather bench in front of the vanity mirror. "Chop chop."

Daryl awkwardly bent his leg as he lifted it over the long, cushioned seat, sitting down tentatively in front of the Emperor's spread thighs, the kohl jar in one hand, the flat brush in the other.  

"You may start." Negan closed his eyes. "Make me fucking pretty for battle."   

Daryl blinked through his longish bangs, holding his breath. He had never applied paint to a face before, not even to his own. 

Negan kept his eyes closed but arched one of his brows when nothing happened after half a minute. "Are you gonna stare at me all day or paint my fucking face?" He heard a small huff that sounded really stressed out and took it as a compliment. 

Daryl looked from the beautiful features in front of him to the thin brush in his hand and gingerly dipped the flattened end into the brass jar. It wasn't liquid paint like the one he had used to decorate porcelain, but very fine black powder. He scooped up a generous amount, quickly scraped half of it off again on the rim of the jar, and began his painting efforts with slightly trembling fingers, exhaling a short huff of nervous breath against the Emperor's face.

"Careful, boy. Don't stab my fucking eye." Negan suppressed a smirk and squeezed his left eye shut tightly when the brush was accidentally poked a bit too harshly against his lid. "Smooth, even strokes." 

Daryl released another stressed sigh and shifted from one butt cheek onto the other. "Okay." He tried again and held the brush sideways, moving it along the line of long lashes on Negan's upper lid, from the inner eye towards the outer edge. He bit his lip in concentration, trying to draw an even line and then thickened it out a little with shorter strokes. It looked nice. He sat back for a moment, inspecting his work before he moved on to the other eye. This time it worked even better.   

Negan was totally smitten by the way his chamberlain leaned in so close, spreading the entire assortment of sweet scents available in the fountain yard. He heard him lick his lips and breathe softly. It made him open his eyes, the tip of his tongue rolling against his bottom lip. "Don't forget the lower line."  

Daryl was a bit taken aback by the sudden eye contact and he tried to avoid it, ducking his head under the piercing stare. He fumbled with the small brass jar, dipping the brush into the black powder at least ten times, scraped off what was too much and blew out a soundless breath when he glanced up again, gently sweeping the brush along the Emperor's lower lash line. It didn't turn out well. His fingers trembled and it was hard to concentrate now that he was watched. He muttered a bad word under his breath and met dark eyes just for a second before he had to look away again, completely intimidated by the challenging sparkle they held combined with a hint of amusement. 

Negan sat in silence, studying all the beautiful details on a bashful face. Peacock-colored paint around blue eyes. Golden jewelry mixed with silky strands of hair falling into a pale forehead. Thick, dark blond eyelashes casting shadows on slightly blushed cheeks in the early morning light. He didn't say anything when a pink tongue came out to wet a shy finger. He adored when the glistening fingertip reached after his face to rub a blotch of smudged kohl from underneath his eye. He loved it all and felt his willpower tested to just sit and watch.

Daryl fidgeted under the unblinking stare. And with each new stroke of black color he added, the effect increased. It brought out a sharp gleam in dark eyes that got so intense that he felt himself flush in response to the heat of Negan's attention. He huffed a breath and flicked his head, his pulse beating an irregular rhythm against his throat. He drew the brush a last time along the man's lower lid, made the line a bit thicker and then wanted to say that he was finished, but only smacked his lips, soundless, totally spellbound by the Emperor's captivating presence.

"Are you done?" Negan's lips were not quite smiling but tilting as if they meant to. He swept his tongue along two of his back teeth, leaving it there for a moment, enjoying the coy nod he received. "Yes? Do I look hot?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded again, his gaze wandering over the man's sharp cheekbones, perfectly trimmed beard and slicked back dark hair. Black ear studs and the daring kohl, thick around fiery eyes. The Emperor looked undeniably regal, a bit dangerous, very powerful and truly hot.  

Negan slowly studied the blue eyes gazing at him in adoration. "Do I get a kiss for good luck?" 

Daryl raised his left shoulder to touch it to his adorned ear, pointing to the Emperor's hand. 

The innocence of the gesture made Negan chuckle. He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "No handkiss." He leaned forward, his eyes holding firm contact, and stopped just an inch from Daryl's face. "A real one." The first brush of his mouth against warm lips was just brief and light as a feather before he drew back enough to look into startled eyes. "Say, Good luck my Lord."

The deep voice rumbled through Daryl's body like a warm caress that evoked little tingling shockwaves along the way, making his stomach clench. "Good luck 'm Lord." He just muttered his reply, his tone hoarse and really quiet. His heart fluttered. His eyelashes almost brushed the Emperor's face because he was so close. He could feel his breath and smell his skin and hair. And then the whole world froze when coarse stubble touched his smooth skin. 

"Mhm." Negan leaned in again, completely captivated by his chamberlain's pure, powdery scent and the warm puffs of breath hitting his face. "Go on, kiss me." It took four silent seconds until a tense mouth landed on his, a bit clumsy at first before it slowly molded to the shape of his lips. He let it happen and stayed still, patiently waited for courage and curiosity to kick in. It did eventually, and tiny pecks were planted on his upper lip, then on the lower. He felt a soft flick of wet tongue for a split second, most likely unintentional, but he rewarded it anyway. With a hum of approval and a secure hand sliding beneath soft hair to settle below a warm ear. 

Daryl hadn't been kissed before. Sometimes he had tried to imagine how it would be but now that it really happened it was beyond his wildest thoughts. He was petrified and at the same time aflame with sensation. Blood rushed to his face when the bristles of a rough beard brushed his skin and Negan's mouth moved gently but firmly over his timid lips, teasing them open. He tucked his head in and stiffened for just a second before he complied and tentatively touched the invading tongue with his own. It sent a tingle down through his chest to his belly. He let out a small whimper, absolutely overwhelmed by the taste and feeling of someone else's tongue and saliva. It made his nipples pebble so hard it was almost painful. He tried to slide closer, lifted his butt a few inches off the seat and sat down again a second later. At some level, he was conscious that the thin brush and kohl jar was removed from his hands and set to the side. He widened his legs and felt them touch hard muscled thighs. His hands wanted to do the same. One did in the next moment, the other went between his own legs, squeezing his strangely throbbing penis. 

Negan hummed again, this time almost a moan, when soft fingers clawed into his bare thigh and a sweet mouth seemed to be more than eager to intensify the experience. He cupped the back of Daryl's neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. His own dick twitched in approval. This boy tasted like heaven and hid a little naughty devil behind all his innocence. He wanted him. Silky hair, pretty make-up, jingling jewelry. Everything. All this soft skin and pure smell. Arching and writhing prettily underneath him in bed for hours.

Too bad his troops waited outside for departure.

He groaned, half out of frustration, half because Daryl mewled against his mouth like a kitten desperate for milk. He gave glistening lips a last slow lick, adoring the pink tip of a tongue that followed him. "Mh." He took hold of Daryl's hand to move it away from his crotch. "Don't touch yourself." He brushed his nose along the incredibly soft skin of the man's face, "You do it tonight, in bed, when you think of me." and nuzzled the silky strands covering the side of his neck. "Not now." To give his order more emphasis he squeezed Daryl's wrist once in a warning. "Right?"

Something hot and demanding rushed through Daryl's body, from his tingling toes to his glowing cheeks and all the pulsing places in between. His brows drew together tightly, an expression of poor misery contorting his youthful features when all the kissing and stimulation stopped so abruptly. 

"Right?" Negan repeated his question sweetly, sniffing the warm spot behind a pale ear. "Say, yes my Lord." 

"Hm." Daryl closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, rubbing the side of his face against bristly beard and the black shiny stud in the Emperor's earlobe. "Yes, my Lord." His voice was low and hoarse somehow, and he wasn't sure what he had agreed to exactly, but that wasn't important because he wanted to do anything for Negan, now, tonight and for the rest of all times.

\----   

A lot of people crowded the outer area of the Sanctuary when the troops were about to leave. All the staff working at the palace, wives, soldiers who would stay behind, old people and young. A large group of children stood along the parade street leading up to the main gates and waved self-made flags, black and red, with the emblem of the Empire.

Daryl had never seen so many horses and men in uniform in one place. It was exciting and he wished he could be one of them, especially when Jesus approached him in black uniform, a long, badass sword on his back, a knife on his belt, his hair up in a bun. He didn't wear any jewelry other than small studs and rings in his ears, but his eyes were painted, even though they didn't hold the usual sparkle. 

"Take my room if I don't come back."

Daryl frowned when he was hugged with such a strange offer.

"And don't forget to feed the birds and fishes, okay?" Paul stroked the hair out of Daryl's face, kissing his cheek. "Farewell, Mikey." There was a small smile on his face, not happy at all but sad and concerned, when he turned around a last time before he vanished between all the soldiers to mount his horse.

Daryl looked after him and realized that most of the soldiers wore the same despondent expression. Tense and serious. Because they went on a military campaign and would most likely fight a battle. It meant killing, it meant getting injured, it meant maybe not returning home.

He remembered that from Alexandria and Mister Grimes' troops. All the men who never came back, not even in a casket. It had happened to the young guys who had just started their military career, as well as to the experienced commanders, like Mister Walsh. He had never thought about it much, it was a soldier's fate. But now that maybe Jesus could be the one who wouldn't come back, he felt suddenly more than ill.

Pictures of blood and deep, fatal wounds popped into his head. Pictures of him all alone in the fountain yard with all the giggling girls. Pictures of big black flags on halfmast, because maybe the Emperor himself had fallen during battle.

A cold chill ran down his back, his heart aching at the thought. He craned his neck and tried to see over all the other people, then climbed a few steps up in front of the Sanctuary's main entry, to see better but couldn't find Negan anywhere. He saw Lucille, held by a servant, he saw Sergeant Ford and the soldier with the black hair who was always smiling, even now as he talked to another man on horseback. He saw Simon loading up more weapons on a cart and a female soldier with black neck tattoo helping him. The first infantry company left already through the high gates, the cavalry got ready to follow behind, and then Daryl finally saw the Emperor. Tall and beautiful in his black leather armor, the golden details glinting in the sun. He came out of the surrogate's buildings together with a young woman who carried a baby on her arm. He stroked its dark hair and left, making his way towards his men and the servant who took care of his mare.   

Daryl hurried down the stairs, trying to push through the crowds. He had to speak to the Emperor and tell him how dangerous war really was. He wanted to ask him to stay, or at least take him along and give him a knife like the one Paul had, so he would be able to defend his leader on the battlefield. But no matter how fast he ran, he lost sight of Negan, and by the time he reached the parade street, the last company of soldiers had already left the gates. Paul was gone, Lucille wasn't there anymore and all the children waving their self-made little flags shouted their farewells and wishes for good luck after His Majesty and his brave troops.

Daryl stopped in the middle of the white street, wiping some hair out of his face as he tried to catch his breath. The guards closed the heavy gates behind the last men and a horse cart with rations. His heart sank. They were all gone and he couldn't do anything about it.

He bit his lip and fumbled with the thin fabric of his fluttery pants, repeating four little words in his head in hopes they would make a difference. 'Good luck my Lord.'

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aftercare next


	13. The scent of you

There was a large balcony extending along the Sanctuary's north side which was fitted with a black and gold canopy and hangings of heavy dark red damask. Daryl sat behind the elegant marble balustrade, his legs pulled up close to his chest. He had never been here before and he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be. But it was quiet and he wanted to be alone.

His thigh hurt after Doctor Stookey had given him another testosterone shot. His stomach rumbled because he had been too upset to eat. He missed Denise. And he felt really sick and sad because the Emperor and all the brave soldiers were gone and maybe not all of them would return back home safely from their mission.

In the afternoon he had considered to take the small grey horse and follow them to help and protect Negan. But the stable boys would have seen him and the guards at the main gate would have never let him go. He had no weapon either, and even if he had one he wouldn't really know how to use it. He wasn't a soldier. Just a bedroom servant.

He huffed a sad sigh and hugged his legs tighter, hiding his face behind his knees. Then peered over them, touching the sheer fabric of his fluttery pants with his lips. He was a little bit more than a bedroom servant now. The Emperor's chamberlain. He had even applied the wonderful black kohl for His Majesty. And he had kissed him for good luck. He licked his lips, thinking about it. The feeling of rough beard against his skin and a soft, warm tongue in his mouth. "Hh." He huffed another sigh and hid his face again when something inside his lower tummy throbbed and tickled. Kissing had been really very nice. 

"Man, your aim is horrible! My blind grandmother would have been able to hit that target!"

At the sound of laughter and male voices, Daryl glanced through the balcony's railing down at the yard. It wasn't as beautiful and decked-out on the palace's north side, more like a training ground, and the two men standing there did look like soldiers. They wore their plain black training uniform and weapons. Crossbows. Badass ones made of black metal with golden details. They practiced target shooting and it seemed like they battled one another because one of them kept laughing at the repetitive failure of the other before he took pity on him and shared some tips. It was Siddiq.

Daryl hadn't expected to see him here. He thought he would have gone with the other soldiers to fight by his brother's side. He watched them shoot another bolt and inspect a piece of one of the weapons, talk a bit about the best bowstring wax, until finally one of them left. 

Siddiq stayed and shouldered his crossbow as he walked up to the target they had used. He pulled all the bolts out, threw a damaged one away and put the others in his quiver. He cocked his head to the side when he walked back over the training ground and spotted a young man up on the balcony, peering through the railing. "Hey, Mike!" He smiled. "You wanna try? Carlos had enough for today."

Daryl shook his head vehemently. He didn't want to shoot anything. He didn't even know how it worked and his thigh really hurt.    

"Come on!" Siddiq waved an arm, smiling brightly. "I'll show you how it works!"

\----

In the early evening when the whole Sanctuary was dipped in the orange light of the setting sun, a slightly sweaty young man, wearing a good amount of jewelry to his turquoise tunic and wide flowing pants, poked his tongue out in high concentration as he took a proper stance, aimed down the sights of his heavy crossbow at the intended target and placed his finger on the trigger, then exhaled as he slowly squeezed it. He watched the entire flight of the bolt through the sighting mechanism and felt his chest fill with pride when it hit its target, right in the middle. For the fifth time in a row.

"Th." Siddiq shook his head, combing a hand through his hair. "Man, I can't believe you're such a natural."

The corners of Daryl's mouth tipped up at the compliment. After some initial difficulties and many missed shots in the first hour, he had really gotten the knack of it now. He just took a deep breath like Siddiq had taught him, let half out, held the rest as he tried to relax his body and concentrate on the best alignment. It was a bit tricky to align the sights and focus on the front sight instead of the target, but it worked best when he kept both eyes open. Then he squeezed the trigger with the ball of his finger as slowly as he let his breath out. It worked like a charm. He hit the target with absolute accuracy. The only problem was the weight of the weapon and the fading sunlight. Maybe they could move some of the torches onto the training ground.

"Come on." Siddiq yawned, patting his student's shoulder as he walked past him. "Let's wrap up for today. Time for dinner."

Daryl didn't want to. He rather wanted to shoot some more. But Siddiq took the weapon out of his hand and went to collect all the bolts, already having trouble to find the last one that had landed somewhere in the higher grass behind the target. Sunset really sucked.

But dinner was very nice. Because he sat with the soldiers who had stayed behind at the Sanctuary and Siddiq told them all about his first crossbow training and how great his aim was. It made him immensely proud and so hungry that he ate all the rabbit meat and vegetables on his tray and the rest from Siddiq's weird white cheese.

All the way from the canteen back to the palace and through the endless maze of stairs, doors and hallways, Daryl walked with a confident stride, tugged the seam of his low hanging, fluttery pants twice and held his chin up high, thinking about how he would soon be able to fight the great battles by the Emperor's side. On horseback, shooting a badass crossbow.

"Good evening, young Michael." An old man with white hair and long tunic smiled at him. "We've been missing you at the auditorium today."

Daryl stopped, wrinkling his nose underneath the silky long strands of his hair.

"I hope you're working already on your presentation." Hershel put a hand on his student's shoulder. "We're all looking forward to hearing your thoughts on the topic."

"Hm." Daryl glanced up and then quickly avoided his eyes, his shoulders hunching as all confidence left his body.

"Very good." The docent gave a nod with a friendly smile. "Don't hesitate to approach me if you need any help."

"Hm." Daryl nodded as well but failed to return the smile as he watched the old man leave. He would never go near the auditorium again. 

He hurried through the last two corridors and up some shiny marble stairs to the fountain yard, ducked his head when the giggling girls asked him to join their little henna-painting-party, and quickly vanished in Paul's room, wishing Denise could come and lock him in with a big silver key. 

Daylight was completely gone by now, leaving the room dark and shadowy. But he knew the way to the big dresser and that the small box with the matches was in the upper drawer on the left side. He got it out and lit some of the pretty brass lanterns, enough to bath his surroundings in a dim orange light. He liked how it made everything look. The furniture, the big cushions and the small palm tree Paul kept in a pot near the balcony doors. 

He looked into the mirror that hung over the dresser and started to take his jewelry off. The delicate rings in his hair, the dark blue beads, the studs and small creoles in his ears, the dangling headpiece from his forehead. He put it all into the jewelry box and then paused when he found another box right next to it. A small one, made of silver and black velvet. He had never seen it before and a folded piece of paper was partly tugged underneath. He took it and held his breath. It read his name. His real name. D A R Y L. Written in beautiful black ink and elegant letters. He unfolded it and held it close to one of the lanterns. 

_For the prettiest bellybutton in the new world._

_Be a good cadet until I am back._

_Negan_

Reading the third and fourth word was difficult and took a long time. Reading every letter of the word 'cadet', putting them together and understanding the meaning let a small firework of happiness explode in Daryl's belly. Seeing the familiar word _Negan_ underneath it all brought a smile to his face. He had never received a letter before and this one came from the most beautiful person he knew and was full of nice words. It also smelled good. Like lime, leather and wonderful long fingers with golden rings.

He took the note close to his face, inhaling deeply, then looked at it again, in awe with the elegant handwriting and all the pretty ink. He folded it and took the small velvet box. The lid opened easily and inside was a piece of jewelry, looking like a pendant made of gold, curved, with a small bead on one end and a dangling greenish-blue pearl at the other. He took it out and held it near the lantern. The dangling pearl looked like the eye of a peacock feather. He smelled it as well but it had no scent to it. It felt good, though. Heavy and valuable. He knew it was for his bellybutton so that he could look like Jesus. But he didn't know how to attach it. He pulled the broad waistband of his pants down a little and held the jewelry to his navel. It looked so pretty. Certainly, the Emperor had made it himself.

He put it carefully down on the nightstand next to the lantern that stood there, took his clothing off, folded it to be an extra good cadet and crawled into Paul's big bed, underneath the luxurious covers. They were soft and cool on his skin, instantly spending a great sense of comfort.

Still, he couldn't fall asleep for a very long time. His mind kept wandering to all the events of the day, showing him made-up pictures of soldiers on the battlefield, the Emperor on his big, black horse, fighting faceless enemies with sticks and knives and swords. Jesus in his fantastic uniform shooting a crossbow. He wished he could be with them and help, now that he knew how to shoot. He imagined being there, on his grey horse, holding on to the horses' back with his thighs so he would have his hands free. He would load and aim and squeeze the trigger, hitting the enemy soldier right in the hand, so he wouldn't be able to fight the Emperor. That would be awesome. He just would need to reload very quickly in case other soldiers came. But reloading took a lot of time and was tricky. On the training ground, he could only do it with Siddiq's help. 

He huffed a breath, rubbing his forehead. Maybe he would have to train much more. How to reload quickly and how to aim and shoot from horseback. And maybe he would need another weapon like a knife or stick because he could get out of bolts in the middle of a battle.

Thinking about all that was scary somehow and he hoped the Emperor and his troops were safe right now, especially because it was dark outside. 

He played with a strand of his hair, curling it around his finger, then looked at the beautiful golden jewelry with the peacock pearl laying like a small treasure on the nightstand. He reached out to touch it, smiling. He would be the best cadet ever for Negan. Better than all the other cadets in the barracks yard.

\----    

Somewhere in the Empire's western territory, near the old state border, Negan had let his troops set up camp for the night. They were already close to Fort Payne, but not yet in the radius of their scouts. Another day's march. Maybe one and a half. But first, the men needed some rest and a good meal.

He had a last talk with Simon to get confirmation that everything was quiet, there was enough firewood and all his men had their ration of food, then went to his tent. Jerry stood next to the entry, wearing a chest protector over his usual uniform and an additional knife at his belt.

"My Lord." He pulled the heavy canvas to the side.

Negan nodded and ducked his head as he entered. The torches were low already and it smelled faintly of sandalwood and the two girls resting on his bed. Somebody had filled the bowl of the washbasin with fresh, warm water and put a tray of food on the small table. Cold meat, bread, and cheese, the same ration as everyone else got.

He sighed, stretching his tense neck, then started to disrobe and remove his armor. He unfastened the leather band encircling his upper arm and set it down, beginning to work on his plated leather vest.  

One of the girls sat up, making no effort to cover her nudity. He met her gaze, his fingers working the fasteners loose, down the front of is armor, saying nothing about the fact that she was in his bed. He always brought a couple of the harem along and they always fought for their right to get the honor. This time, apparently Tanja and Patricia had won the chick fight. Which was okay, because on military missions he had no patience for Amber's drama or Pauline's clinginess. His eyes followed her as she slid off the bed and slowly walked around the table.

Wordlessly, she placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled the heavy leather vest from his arms, setting it on the floor behind them with a soft clunk. Her eyes swept over his sweaty torso and she gave him a seductive little smile as she reached for a fresh cloth and blindly dipped it into the warm water of the wash basin, before starting to clean him. Drawing the wet cloth over the muscles in his neck, shoulders, pectorals, and abdomen in sensuous, gentle sweeping motions.

Negan tried to relax but found her ministrations irritating somehow. He watched her in silence, focussing on her hair. Light brown, silkily flowing around her shoulders, five delicate rings braided into a thick strand at the side of her head. He touched one of them, then took a shiny brown strand of hair between his fingers to feel it.

Patricia drew the dripping cloth one more time over his well-defined musculature, her eyes falling to the leather draped around his waist. She paused, glancing up with a quirk of her thin brow and sank to her knees, keeping her eyes on his as she worked the cloth along one of his hard thighs, up underneath the kilt, clearly not meaning to clean anything but shamelessly going right for her target. 

"No." The cloth fell to the floor a second before her hand made contact with Negan's cock, when he grabbed her wrists abruptly, staring down at her with a challenging glare. He flung her arms to the side and walked off, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "Put that away." He waved two fingers towards the table and took a sip of his water, waiting for her to clear the tray off the table. 

She complied with a smirk, knowing what would come.    

He put the cup down, pinched his nose and waved his fingers again. "Up."

Patricia didn't have to be told twice, the wicked smirk replaced by a look of pure arousal. She lifted herself up to sit on the table and leaned back slightly, resting on her hands.

He studied her in the dimming torchlight, unfastening his black leather kilt at a leisurely pace. "Spread your legs."

She did slowly, enjoying the heat of excitement rushing through her body as she opened herself for him. Her gaze swept down over his taut body, coming to a rest on his loins as the leather skirt was removed and flung somewhere to the side. She bit her lip.

"Are you wet for me?" Negan stroked himself lazily to full hardness, moving forward to position himself between her thighs.

"Yes, my Lord." She opened her legs even wider, running a finger through the dark, coarse hair covering his chest. "I knew you would fuck me tonight."

"Mhm." He slapped her hand off. "What made you so fucking sure. Could've picked Tanja."

Patricia chuckled, the wicked smile back on her lips. "I made her come twice. She always passes out after a good orgasm."

"Look at you." He grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her to the very edge of the table. "Aren't you a little asshole." 

She lost balance, collapsing with her back flat on the roughened wood, her stomach clenching with desire as he thrust himself forward and entered her without any leniency in one swift motion. Her head fell back, trying to choke out a defense as she was held impaled on his cock with the generous permission to adjust for a brief moment. "We have to be creative. You tend to pick the boy lately." 

"Is that so." Negan's eyes flickered darkly as the hint of a smirk curved the right edge of her mouth. He pulled out almost completely only to thrust back in viciously. Even deeper this time, hitting her cervix as she let out a strangled whimper.

"Yes." She closed her eyes, lifting her arms above her head to offer herself freely for whatever he had in mind. "And now there's Michael." She scrunched up her face at another merciless thrust, reflexively locking her legs around his hips when he started a rhythm and tore into her at a fervent pace, burying himself up to the balls, slapping and pounding against her thighs. "The competition gets bigger."    

A chuckle emerged from deep in Negan's chest. He leaned down and bit her breast, then curled his fingers tightly around her exposed neck as he grazed his teeth along her soft, heated face. "Don't you worry. _Michael_... isn't competing with any of you."  In fact, nobody in the fountain yard could hold a fucking candle to Daryl. He played in a much different league. 

\----

A whole colony of prickling hot ants swarmed the lower half of Daryl's body as he woke up from a restless sleep in the middle of the night. The candles in the brass lanterns had gone out by now, leaving the room dark except for the vague shine of the moon in front of the balcony.

He had dreamt a wild mix of horse riding and fighting with swords, crossbows, and evil firebombs. He had also dreamt of the Emperor. Of serving him as a bedroom servant. All naked, on his knees, like he had done it with the Governor so often. But this time it had been different. It was nice. Negan had smiled at him and kissed him in between. He had touched him everywhere with big, strong hands, had held him and praised him with the nicest words in deep, dark voice. Negan had enjoyed anal service with him, the way he had done it with Jesus, against the bedroom wall.

"Hh." Daryl pressed his thighs tightly together when a gush of heat swept through his belly at the memory of his very lively dream. He grabbed his penis and then quickly took his hands off because he wasn't allowed to do that. But something in his butt throbbed anyway and he turned towards the wall, feeling his heart drum in his chest. He really wished he could be the Emperor's bedroom servant just for one night. Or a soldier servant like Jesus. To offer anal service and kissing, all at the same time.

He huffed a breath at all the graphic pictures flooding his head and licked his lips, remembering the morning in the West Wing's private chambers. Sitting at the vanity with the Emperor to apply his kohl. Making him pretty for battle. And kissing him for good luck. Thinking about it made his chest and face feel warm. It made him hold his breath because his genitals felt really strange. And he pressed his thighs together again when he thought of Negan's deep voice giving him the order not to touch himself until later at night in bed. 

He exhaled a shuddery breath and closed his eyes, putting a hand between his legs and then pulled his knees up to his chest, curling up like a hedgehog. He lay perfectly still, listening to the comforting gurgling fountain and the rustling of birds in golden cages while pictures of his tall, mighty leader went through his head. Heavy combat boots and amazing leather armor. Muscles moving under slightly sweaty skin. Strong arms and firm hands. Pretty, black face paint and ears adorned with shiny, round studs... He sighed and gave his flaccid, shrunken penis a squeeze and tug when his mind wandered to images of a very naked Negan. The thick, long penis he had seen and heavy, big balls, dark hair covering a muscular chest and abdomen, long, bare legs and firm butt cheeks. He sighed again and held his breath as an unexpected wave of heat churned through his lower belly, very deep down. It made something in his anal area throb and twitch. It made his heart beat faster and let him crave his silver placeholder. A picture popped into his head of himself sitting on Negan's bare lap while they were both naked. The Emperor's big penis nudged against his bum and he was kissed and caressed with warm lips and a soft tongue.

He squeezed his eyes shut and curled up even more, the weird pulsing spreading through his whole body. It made his internal muscles clench and his shrunken genitals twitch once in his hand. He gasped softly and fondled himself but it didn't feel as good as the cuddling that Jesus always did. It made him sad and frustrated somehow. Angry a bit and his skin grew hot from his neck to his feet. He whimpered and turned to lie on his chest, his legs pulled up and a hand between his thighs along with a pile of sheets and blankets. He buried his face into a pillow and rocked his restless body back and forth, clenched his thighs and squeezed his penis in between, thinking of the short black hair at the back of Negan's neck, the feeling of rough beard on his skin and a big hand safely placed on his bare belly while riding on a mighty horse. A deep voice talking to him, giving military commands. Kneeling on the floor in the private chambers between muscular legs, giving oral pleasure to His Majesty. 

The last thought sent a flash of consternation and embarrassment through Daryl's chest before it turned into naughty excitement that seeped into every part of his lower body and pulsing insides. He parted his lips a bit, dampening the luxurious fabric of the pillow cover with puffs of warm breath, as he humped the wadded-up blanket. 

He really wished the Emperor could come and pet his hair or offer him his ring to kiss.

\----

The last of the torches were about to sputter out shortly after midnight. It was a warm night and Negan felt sated and relaxed after a meal, drink, and staggering climax.

Still, he was lying awake, a light cover over his legs, staring at the ceiling of his tent as he absently played with Patricia's earring. Gold, smooth and heavy. His gaze fell to the side. Her light brown hair damp and soft against his shoulder. She shifted slightly in her sleep and the warmth of her pale skin caressed the entire length of his body.

He turned his head a bit, nudging his nose into her silky strands. He closed his eyes, inhaling, then paused and drew back, disappointment and frustration making his guts itch. The thought of throwing them both out of bed crossed his mind, but after a moment of consideration he simply rolled the light body off his arm and got up, slipping into his thin, black silk robe. He didn't bother to fasten it in the front as he ducked his head and left the tent.

He looked up into the clear, dark sky for a moment, enjoying the fresh air filling his lungs and gentle breeze on his heated skin, then made his way into the back of the camp where his foot soldiers were located. The entrance of the third tent on the right was decorated with a small peacock feather and self-made hangings of colorful beads, strung up on a cord. Dark red, dark green, dark blue. They clattered very faintly as he slipped an arm past the heavy canvas and moved it aside. A brass lantern gave off a dim orange light at the side of the bed. It consisted only of a thin mat laying directly on the floor, a pillow and simple brown cover. Negan smirked anyway as he saw the young man resting there, tousled long hair splayed around his head, three broad rings decorating his dainty fingers, dark green color accentuating his eyes. A heavy, large knife lay next to him but he didn't even attempt to grab it when he sensed that somebody had entered his tent.

"Told you." Jesus inhaled deeply, not opening his eyes as he scratched his bare stomach.

"And what was that." Negan kicked his soldier's side, wanting him to move over.

Jesus chuckled but complied, making room for his commander on the plain sleeping pad. "To leave the girls at home." He didn't protest when strong arms pulled him against a hard, slightly cool chest. Having His Majesty come over for a late night visit was the nicest surprise after such an exhausting day. Blessed be Trisha and her female curves for chasing the most desired stud of the Empire right into his little tent. "You know..." He snuggled closer, raking his fingertips through coarse chest hair. "You should bring Michael next time."

Negan closed his eyes, patting Paul's butt. "You should fucking sleep."    

"Mhh." Paul slid his hand deeper underneath the thin cover, appreciating his Lord's wide open robe. "But you are naked, Sir." A huffed breath escaped his lungs, feeling Negan's bare manhood underneath his palm.

Negan caught his soldier's hand and entwined their fingers, letting them rest on his stomach. "In the morning."

The horny part of Paul's brain was willing to accept the offer since the other part of his brain was really tired. He pressed a kiss next to a pebbled nipple, letting his body relax. After almost 12 minutes of silence, he had drifted back into a light sleep.

"His name's Daryl."

He inhaled, blinking his heavy eyes open. "He told you his name?"

"Hm."

Paul thought about it for a moment, his eyes falling shut again. It was a good name. "My Lord."

"Hm."

"You should bring Daryl next time."

Negan heard it and didn't answer. But he drifted off to sleep with the image of a young man in his bed. Smooth skin, pale and warm. Silky hair, adorned with pieces of gold, sapphire, and emerald. Exuding the powdery scent of bergamot and jasmine, as if he had been created with one purpose only. Bringing the big, mighty Emperor, the most powerful man of the new world joy and comfort. Something like peace, for the first time.

\----

In the very early morning, when not even the big parrots rustled in their golden cage and the faint gurgling of the fountain was the only sound in the Sanctuary's most beautiful interior courtyard, the young Chamberlain in Paul Rovia's bed had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

Naked, lying on his stomach, legs pulled up to his chest, the heap of sheets and blankets between his thighs featuring two small wet spots. A golden piece of jewelry lay next to his fingers on the pillow, while he held a slightly crinkled letter still close to his face, comforted by the faint scent it gave off.  
  
  
  
            
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  



	14. ambitious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the sad person with the apron <3

Just like in Alexandria, the best place to pick up on the latest news was the market. At the Empire's thriving capital it was called Bāzār. A lively place stretching from the city center almost all the way to the main gates, where goods and services were exchanged for points. The gossip, however, was a free bonus to every purchase, which meant that for three different purchases at three different merchants one got at least three different versions of the newest stories.  
  
Daryl walked along the lined-up stalls, eating a weird pressed cake of dried fruit that a random lady had handed to him with a friendly 'Salam'. He was used to it by now. Whenever he left the high gates of the Sanctuary, people with free water, fruit or vegetables approached him as a constant reminder to stay hydrated and consume enough fresh produce. He liked it, just as the whole Bāzār-market. Anything and everything could be found here. Perfumes, toys, garments and fabric, pretty jewelry, glassware, pottery and brass, even bright colorful birds in cages made of wood and wicker. He could have spent hours to look at it all, even though he had no points to make a purchase.  
  
He stopped at a stall with blue baldachin that offered polished brass figurines. Swans, pigs, deer and strange creatures he had never seen before. But what caught his attention were the little statues of the Emperor. Some showed him standing on a socle wearing his armor, two fingers held up proudly in the air. Some showed him riding Lucille in a full-out canter, mane, and tail flowing in the wind. Some showed him holding an infant on one arm and the waving flag of the Empire in the other hand. He loved them all and reached out to touch one. It was Negan on his horse, with armor, weapon, and everything.    
  
"That's our powerful sovereign at the great battle of the south." A humble merchant with three missing teeth and smudgy eye makeup performed a half-bow behind his table. His suntanned skin was deeply wrinkled and his red tunic worn down, but he gave his potential customer a friendly smile and encouraged him to view all of his goods. "Everything handmade. You won't find better quality anywhere in town."  
  
Daryl took the small statue shyly in both hands. It was heavy and shiny. He wished he had points so he could buy it for the Emperor. But he didn't, so he put it back down and shook his head, quickly vanishing in the crowd before the old merchant could say anything else.  
  
"Salam." A young guy with dark skin and bright smile handed him a purple, round fruit, smaller than an apple. "Our new cold hardy fig. We grow it for the first time and they are delicious." The man nodded excitedly. "Please, try!"  
  
Daryl gave it a timid lick before he took a small bite, just because he was watched. It was red inside and tasted sweet. Almost like honey.  
  
"Aah?" The man with the fruit basket perked his brows. "Good, right?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded. He liked it.  
  
"Told you!" The man picked three especially beautiful specimens and handed them over, but before he let go of them, tipped his head to the side, squinting. "Hey wait!" He pointed a finger. "You are from the Sanctuary! I saw you with the Imperial Highnesses at the show!" He gestured with wide arms, smiling as if it was obvious. "I served drinks that night! Do you remember me?"  
  
Daryl stopped chewing his fig, shaking his head. He remembered the show, though. With Negan and all the dancers.  
  
"Well, I remember you. You seemed pretty close to our Emperor." He wiggled one eyebrow, then put his basket down and held a hand out. "I'm Stretford."  
  
Daryl wrinkled his nose, wiped his hand awkwardly into his thin pants and shared a weak handshake. "Daryl."  
  
"Man, that's so awesome!" Stretford put a hand on his hip, adopting an askew stance. "I always wanted to know somebody from the Sanctuary. Are you working there? Are you part of the harem? You must be!" He gestured at Daryl's outfit. "I mean, just look at you!"  
  
"Hm." Daryl pulled a shoulder up. He felt shy but wanted to tell it anyway because he was so glad that he could talk about Negan. "'sleep there." On a pillowbed in Paul's room.  
  
"Argh, it must be so beautiful!" Stretford groaned, tipping his head back. "I saw pictures, but I bet it's even better in reality."  
  
"Hm." Daryl thought so, too, even if he had never seen a picture of the harem. He would like to have one, though. Just without all the silly giggling girls.  
  
"And? Do you have a job there or do you just sit around all day and look pretty." The man smiled and tucked his fig-basket under one arm, putting the other around Daryl's shoulders.  
  
"'m a chamberlain." Daryl's answer sounded a little gruff but he liked to say the word out loud.  
  
"Of course you are! Man, that must be the best job in the world!" Stretford walked his new best friend along the busy street. "Tell me about our sovereign. Is he nice in private?"  
  
Daryl nodded, almost dropping one of his figs. He would give one to Negan and one to Jesus as soon as they were back. "He's not there now."  
  
Stretford grimaced. "Oh yes, I've heard he just took over Fort Payne in the west, but it must have been a tough battle."  
  
Something hot and heavy dropped in Daryl's stomach. He gave Stretford an alarmed sideglance.  
  
"Rumor has it that P.B. is still alive and has formed a huge army of insurgents."  
  
"Who's P.B.?" Daryl stopped in the middle of the street.  
  
Stretford didn't, shoving his companion through the people with a comforting back pat. "Philip Blake. He was the Governor from one of the insurgent communities, but we took it out. Man, I tell you," He shook his head, kicking a small pebble stone with his foot. "He's a dangerous wacko."  
  
Daryl's brows knitted in deep concern, suddenly feeling very ill. He thought that the Governor would be dead, fallen along with the other victims of the Alexandrian bombing. But then, of course, everyone knew that Mister Blake had a secret hiding place and guards in front of every door, so it wasn't that much of a surprise that he might have survived. And he could only imagine how angry Mister Blake must be, now that Alexandria was destroyed, all his precious possessions, including the women's quarters. He could imagine his angry face and cold voice. It gave him chills just to think about it. He hoped Negan wouldn't encounter him face to face.  
  
"But don't worry," Stretford patted Daryl's shoulder, coming to a halt in front of the Sanctuary's mighty gates. "Our commander in chief will handle it. He always does."      
  
"Hm." Daryl hoped so but wasn't convinced.  
  
"So, that's your home, ha?" Stretford smiled, stroking the heavy iron gate like a kitten. "Not bad." He gave Daryl some more figs out of his basket. "For his Highness, with my warmest regards." He took a humble bow and turned to leave, waving his fingers in the air. "See you around, Daryl!"  
  
\----  
  
At night, Daryl couldn't sleep for a long time. He lay in Paul's bed, staring at the dark ceiling as he fumbled the small piece of golden jewelry in his fingers. The gurgling fountain and pleasant smells did nothing for once to make him more tired or his eyes heavy.  
  
He was too worried and wished there would be a way to know if Negan and all the soldiers were okay and unharmed. He wished he could help. He wished he was more than just a chamberlain and bedroom servant. He wished he was a soldier, riding next to the Emperor into battle with a weapon. Like Jesus did. Then he would be useful. Then he could maybe make a difference. Then he could maybe protect himself when the Governor would come to take him back.  
  
He stopped fumbling with his golden belly-ring, his fingers stilling as he thought of the women's quarters. His life there. Serving Mister Blake. Would he want to go back if he had the opportunity? Would he want to leave the new world and the Sanctuary? A strange feeling welled through his chest, making him feel nauseous and sad. He wouldn't want to leave Negan. The fountain yard and Paul. The shared meals at the canteen. The horses in the stable. Siddiq and the awesome crossbow. Maybe he wouldn't miss the giggling girls and the auditorium. But he would miss all the rest. Free fruit and push-ups. Tasty rabbit meat. The pretty fishes in the pond. His new leader who wanted him to speak and do more than porcelain painting and oral service. No, he didn't want to leave and go back. He didn't want to serve Mister Blake again, even though Denise would be very disappointed with him.  
  
He turned around in the big comfy bed with all its pillows and blankets, closing his eyes. Then he put a hand up to his mouth and after a moment kissed the knuckles of his fingers, mumbling a quiet 'My Lord'. Just secretly, but it felt good anyway.  
  
\----  
  
On the third day after the Emperor and all the soldiers had left the capital, Daryl woke up before sunrise and decided to do something different. He wanted to be good, he wanted to be helpful. He wanted to be prepared for the day the Governor would come to find him and take him back. He wanted to become a soldier because he knew he could be one if he tried really hard.  
  
He started with 40 push-ups in front of Paul's big bed and did 5 extra, thinking of the beautiful tall Emperor. Then he had to rest for twenty minutes, lying like a dead cat on the ground, trying to catch his breath. But as he lay there, feeling his heart pounding heavily in his chest, he sniffed his arm and then his armpit, noticing the faint scent of real sweat. The kind that smelled a bit unpleasant. It made him so proud and happy that he pushed himself up to his feet to look into one of Paul's mirrors. He looked indeed more manly somehow. His hair wasn't combed and his arms seemed bulkier underneath the sheer fabric of his crinkled tunic. He raised an arm and watched himself sniffing his smooth pit. It really smelled like sweat. He smiled and held his head an inch higher than usual as he made his way to the fountain yard's bathroom, planning to wash because he knew that Negan wanted him pretty. Pretty and muscular. Now he was both. Almost.  
  
Washing wasn't easy. He wasn't sure which bottle was for what body part, and getting all the soap out of his hair was really difficult. It hurt badly when the thick white suds ran into his eyes. It was almost impossible to clean his butt with the fluffy washcloth because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't turn around far enough to be able to see what he was doing. Then he nearly cut himself when he tried to trim his fingernails. He gagged a little as he brushed his teeth. And one of the giggling girls kept coming in with bare chest, giving him weird smiles.  
  
He tried his best to dry and comb his hair, he put a bit of ointment on the sore spot of his thigh where Dr. Stookey always gave him his shots. And as he went back to Paul's room to dress himself, he held the golden jewelry to his belly button, wishing he could attach it somehow. He knew there would have to be a hole in his belly. Just a small one, but still, it would probably hurt very much. But the Emperor would certainly be very disappointed if he wouldn't wear the jewelry as it was supposed to. He looked around, eyeing the sewing needles Paul sometimes used to alter his dancing outfits. Then he thought of the needles that were attached to Dr. Stookey's syringes. He winced, knowing how much they hurt. Maybe he could just go back to the Bāzār. There were people who pierced earlobes, he had seen it. The problem was that he had no points. But maybe he could exchange something for the service. He scratched his head, his eyes wandering to the figs Stretford had given to him. They were really tasty and certainly of enough worth for a little hole.  
  
\----  
  
At not even eight in the morning, the Sanctuary's imperial chamberlain was on the way to town. Clad in a dark green tunic with a golden belt that hung a bit too low on his hips. He also wore jewelry. Three bangles on his wrist, a bracelet on his left ankle, a necklace with a blue gem and one of Paul's sparkly rings on his finger. His hair wasn't adorned with something special because he couldn't get anything to stay attached to his silky strands. They were combed, though and smelled of the perfume from the brown bottle. He had tried to paint his eyes in dark blue and it didn't look too bad. A bit thick and smudgy maybe, but he kind of liked it.  
  
He had also fed the fishes and birds, had made Paul's bed and had watered the small palm tree in the pot next to the balcony door. He was pretty good, and a little exhausted already from all the hard work.  
  
A woman handed him an apple with a friendly 'Salam' and made him realize that he had forgotten to have breakfast at the canteen. The Emperor wouldn't like that, but he didn't turn around, having spotted the stall of the jewelry-person down the already busy street. It was a young man who sold a wide selection of earrings and offered the service of piercing along with it.  
  
Daryl felt his stomach flip and clench as he approached the man, feeling as if he had to get three testosterone shots at once.  
  
"Salam." The man smiled briefly, still busy to unpack his goods and put them to display.  
  
Daryl wanted to greet him back but then didn't get the word out and just held his fig and jewelry up for the merchant to see.  
  
The man squinted, taking the piece of jewelry for a closer look. "Where did you get that?"  
  
Daryl pointed vaguely in the direction of the Sanctuary.  
  
The merchant squinted even harder, giving his young customer an appraising look. "You are from the palace?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded. "'t needs to go here." He pointed at his bellybutton, then held the fig up an inch higher. "'have no points."  
  
The man tipped his head to the side, pursing his lips, then beckoned his customer closer. "Come here."  
  
\----  
  
The moon shone its milky white light through the open balcony doors, a soft breeze made the thin white curtains wave elegantly.  
  
Daryl whimpered, wiping his teary eyes with the back of his wrist. The pain in his belly was horribly bad. The small wound where the Emperor's beautiful jewelry was now attached to his navel was red and throbbing. It had stopped bleeding, but the cooling ointment from the silver tub was empty by now and the sting got worse from one hour to the next. He didn't know how to sit or rest. Walking around didn't help either. He tried to stroke his own hair like Denise had always done it when he had a stomach ache, but it didn't help one bit. It just made him sad on top of all the horrible pain.  
  
He remembered what Negan had told him. That he could take a bit of pain. And he really tried to be brave, but at nearly two in the morning he left the fountain yard, walking a bit crooked, and sniffed his nose all the way through the maze of hallways and staircases, doors and rooms, out of the palace and towards Dr. Stookey's house in the Sanctuary's outer area.  
  
The door was unlocked, so he pushed it open and quietly slipped in, his bare feet making padding noises on the cool marble floor. It was dark except for two brass lanterns at the wall. He wiped his wet eyes again and wasn't sure if he should maybe call the Doctor's name, but then he didn't have to, because a man in a sand-colored tunic and tired face came out of one of the rooms, squinting.  
  
"Michael? Is everything okay?"  
  
Daryl shook his head, pointing at his belly.  
  
Dr. Stookey came closer, squinting even harder. "Is that a piercing?"  
  
Daryl sniffed his nose, nodding.  
  
Bob smiled, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "You crazy youngsters."     
  
\----  
  
Lying on Dr. Stookey's horrible silver table had never felt so good. He had gently removed the jewelry and then sprayed a fluid on the small wound that was cold like snow in winter and took the entire pain away a second later. Then he cleaned it all, probed the tiny pierced hole a bit with a medical instrument and then started to clean the golden jewelry as well.  
  
"It is very pretty. Did you buy it at the Bāzār?"  
  
"No." Daryl shook his head, answering gruffly even though he was glad that he could share the information. "'s from Negan."  
  
Bob glanced up, seeming surprised. Then pursed his lips with a nod, wiping the jewelry down with sanitizer a last time. "Negan, hu? Our Emperor sure has good taste." He smirked as he bent over his patient to attach the piercing again.  
  
"Hm." Daryl agreed and then held his breath, sucking his stomach in, but he didn't feel any pain, just a slight tickle in the belly area.  
  
Bob finished his work, cleaned the affected skin once more, applied a bit more of the numbing spray and helped the young man off the table. "Don't touch it for a couple of days, just use this twice a day. I will check if it heals well when you come for your next shot." He handed a blue bottle of anesthetic spray over. "And next time you receive such a nice gift, come here and I'll help you to get it on. The Bāzār can be a bit risky for such an undertaking." He gave Daryl a wink as he accompanied him to the door and shook his head with a bright smile, watching him leave. He couldn't wait to update Sasha on the latest palatial gossip.  
  
\----  
  
On the 4th day after the troop's departure, Daryl wore a gold-peacock colored belly ring as he proudly strutted into the canteen for breakfast. The pierced skin didn't hurt at all and despite a small sore spot around the puncture site, it looked really very nice. He had also done his push-ups, washed, combed his hair and dressed prettily, in a brownish-golden tunic that matched his wonderful jewelry.  
  
"You look quite happy today." Siddiq gave the young chamberlain a suspicious glance while stirring his tea. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded happily, taking a huge bite of his barbari bread.  
  
"Hm." Siddiq nodded as well, smirking. "I am free until noon. How about a riding lesson and some target shooting?"  
  
Daryl stopped chewing, a wide smile spreading across his face. He would have liked that very much.  
  
\----  
  
After a whole morning of riding and crossbow training, Daryl had devoured his lunch but didn't rest for more than 15 minutes in the sunshine in front of the canteen because he was so pumped and wanted to go back on the shooting range. It didn't matter that Siddiq had to train the new cavalry horses now and he didn't care that two soldiers made fun of his strange riding boots-tunic-jewelry combo. All he cared about was the target that he hit over and over again with more accuracy each time. Holding the heavy crossbow felt awesome and being able to control it like that made him incredibly proud. He wished Denise could have seen him. And the Emperor.  
  
It was almost sunset when the muscles in his arms and fingers started to cramp and his back hurt so bad that he couldn't ignore it any longer. He had trained for almost the entire day but was still annoyed that he had to stop. He searched for his bolts in the dim evening light, shouldered his weapon and made his way back to the Sanctuary's main entrance, all the while thinking about the next day and if he should try and shoot the crossbow from horseback, maybe even while riding.  
  
"Excuse me, are you on the way to the canteen?"  
  
Daryl glanced up. A young woman squatted behind the fence of the surrogate's buildings. She had a big bag over her shoulder and a baby sat in front of her on the ground.  
  
"I pinched a nerve this morning." Enid laughed, pointing to the back of her neck. "I don't get him up."  
  
"Hm." Daryl pulled a shoulder up to rub his ear against, not sure why she talked to him.  
  
"Could you maybe carry him for me?" Enid lifted an eyebrow, finding the slightly dumbfounded expression on the stranger's face amusing. "It's his third day on solid food, we don't wanna miss it."  
  
Daryl wanted to say no. He had never held a baby or carried one around. But he knew the surrogate mothers of the new world had to be treated with utmost respect and he didn't want to be rude. So he slipped through the strap of the crossbow to carry it on his back and then stepped through the small gate into the yard.  
  
"Oh, thank you so much!" Enid winced as she got up, rubbing the back of her neck. "Just pick him up, he is cool with most strangers."  
  
The baby looked up with big eyes, giving Daryl a wary look but didn't cry. He hesitated a moment, unsure of how to touch the infant but eventually just bent down and lifted it up. He held it with stretched out arms, surprised how light it was. The baby had black hair and wore kohl underneath its dark eyes. A golden bracelet dangled around its chubby wrist and the romper it was clad in was made of bright blue, fluttery fabric, with embroidery of golden yarn.  
  
Enid smiled. "His name is Navid. I guess he likes you." She helped the stranger to hold her fosterling the right way, then pushed the gate open. "What's your name? I've never seen you here before."  
  
Daryl awkwardly followed her out. "Daryl." He wrinkled his nose, uncomfortable with the baby pressed against his chest. It stared at him and touched him with its tiny fingers. First his lips, then his nose and after a while, it started to play with the necklace he chose to wear this morning.  
  
"Don't worry Daryl." Enid tickled Navid's small hand. "He just likes shiny things." She led the way along the barrack's yard, towards the canteen. "How come you carry a weapon? Are you a soldier?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded, irritated when a group of people silently saluted him. "'will be an archer."  
  
"Oh right." Enid nodded. "So you are still in training."  
  
"Mh." Daryl held his chin an inch higher. Partly because Navid tried to poke a spit-wet finger between his lips, but also because he felt really proud.  
  
"That's great." She nudged his arm. "And your uniform is really creative."  
  
The lady at the canteen cooed an 'Oh salam your Imperial Cuteness, did you find yourself a new friend, oh yes you did' when Daryl entered and then pinched the baby's cheek before she kissed it.  
  
"Hey, Olivia." Enid grabbed a tray. "I pinched a nerve. Daryl carried him for me."  
  
"Oh but that's so nice of him, isn't it you sweet little prince?" Olivia smiled at little Navid, tickling his side to make him giggle. "Oh yes it is... yes it is!"  
  
Daryl grimaced, not sure what to do when the baby on his arm started to laugh with the canteen lady.  
  
"Just sit down, I'll bring you your food." Olivia took the tray from Enid and pointed to the free space in the back of the room. "And something sweet for His Imperial Squishiness!" She cooed, pinching Navid's drool-covered chin. "Right? Daddy isn't here to scold us! No, he isn't... no, he isn't!"  
  
Daryl wrinkled his nose and turned away, following Enid to their place at the carpet. It was difficult to sit down with the weapon on his back and the baby clinging to his shoulder, but he managed it and didn't even mind that much when the young woman didn't seem to be in any hurry to take the child back. It smelled kind of nice and smiled up at him when he sat it down on his lap.  
  
Enid rubbed her sore neck. "Sorry, about that. Olivia is besotted with him."  
  
"Hm." Daryl grimaced when the baby first played with one of the solid golden bangles he wore on his wrist and then bent down to explore it a bit more with its mouth.  
  
"Everybody loves him." Enid didn't plan to stop her fosterling's slobberfest and affectionately stroked his fine baby hair. "He's the first prince born since Siddiq."  
  
Daryl gave her a side glance. "'s he a brother, too?"  
  
"No. Not a brother." Enid smiled. "He is our Emperor's son. The heir to the throne."  
  
For the rest of his stay at the canteen, Daryl didn't really pay attention anymore. Not to the food that was served, not to anything Enid talked about, not to Olivia trying to spoil the little successor with some extra mashed mango.  
  
He felt numb somehow. Mind-blown. He didn't know what to think. But whenever new people entered the building or somebody walked by to get to their place, he wrapped his arm a bit tighter around the little child's body.  
  
\----  
  
On the seventh day after the Imperial troops had left the capital, the Sanctuary's chamberlain felt dejected. He wasn't in the mood to ride or practice with the crossbow. He even skipped his secret training.  
  
He had met Stretford at the Bāzār in the early morning, who had filled him in with the newest gossip. Apparently, the Emperor and his soldiers had been ambushed in the middle of the night. Six men had fallen. It was rumored that Negan was severely injured but alive. Other rumors claimed that Negan was totally fine and already planned a counterblow.  
  
Daryl was almost sure that the latter was true because he refused to believe that the mighty, tall Emperor was maybe lying in his tent, bleeding and in pain. But still, somewhere in the back of his mind lingered this tiny spark of deep worry and it wouldn't leave no matter what he tried.  
  
Stretford had no information about a person named 'Jesus', and Daryl hoped that the beautiful servant was well and happy. He cleaned Paul's room and made his bed. He watered his small potted palm tree and fed the fishes and parrots. Even the scary peacocks. He thought Chicken looked a bit sad and he tried to pet its pretty, shiny feathers. But obviously, peacocks weren't big fans of consoling cuddles, because the bird trotted off to sulk in the back of the fountain yard, near the lemon trees.      
  
In the late afternoon after a short nap, Daryl sat in front of Paul's mirror, trying for the millionth time to braid a couple of delicate gold rings into his hair and to attach at least one of the beautiful beads he wore normally. It was frustrating. His hair wouldn't stay in place, the beads would fall back out and his braiding was more an awkward knotting.  
  
In the evening he gave up. The girls watched him and giggled even more than usual, the blue parrot wouldn't stop calling him Michael and not even the smell of Paul's cushions could cheer him up.  
  
Four minutes after nine, he left the fountain yard and made his way through the endless maze of doors and hallways to the Sanctuary's West Wing. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to be there as long as the Emperor was gone. But he would have gladly go through a punishment or lecture if it meant that he could spend the night on the wonderful big floor cushion in the most beautiful room of the palace.  
  
There wasn't a guard at the door and he didn't switch the lights on as he walked through the Emperor's private study. It was cool and smelled like wood and leather.  And his heart pounded nervously in his chest when he opened the door to Negan's bedroom. He had missed it so much. The big, open space. The heavy, dark furniture. The calmness and aura of authority that always lingered within these walls.  
  
He walked up to the huge bed and touched the covers, wishing a tall, beautiful man would rest underneath after a stressful day. He turned around, seeing himself in the vanity's mirror. It made his stomach clench and tingle, knowing he had been sitting right there on the leather padded bench to apply the Kohl for his Lord. Knowing that he had been kissed like lovers kissed each other.  
  
It made him smile even though he felt sad, and he went to pull the big floor cushion from its place next to the door to the free space in front of Negan's bed. He curled up on it and after a while kissed his own knuckles, closing his eyes while he secretly wished the Emperor and his brave troops all the luck in the new world to return back home safely and victorious.     
  
\----  
  
"Salam Michael! Salam Michael!"  
  
Daryl glared at the cawing parrot in its golden cage as he sprinkled some fresh sunflower seeds through the thin bars. It was the 9th day, and Paul still wasn't back. Stretford hadn't been anywhere at the Bāzār and the other merchants hadn't any news to share about the Imperial troops. Just that a certain Rosita had made love to another man even though she was engaged with somebody for two years already.  
  
The shoemaker who had talked about it seemed proud that he was up to date with the newest gossip, but Daryl couldn't have cared less. All he was interest in was when Negan would finally return. It seemed like an eternity by now.  
  
He sighed, ignored the silly giggling girls on his way out of the fountain yard, and went to get his testosterone shot and a nice compliment for his pretty belly ring from Dr. Stookey.  
  
At noon he thought about skipping lunch because his thigh hurt really bad, but then he met Enid and Navid on the way and changed his mind because the baby smiled at him and he was allowed to carry it around.  
  
In the afternoon he trained with Siddiq and afterwards helped at the stables. Most of the boxes were empty because the cavalry was gone, but he made sure that they were all cleaned and filled with fresh hay for the day when Lucille and the other horses would return from their mission.  
  
His back and arms hurt after two hours and all he wanted was to sneak into the West Wing to rest on his wonderful big floor cushion for the next 5 days, but just as he attempted to cross the pretty hall with the high marble columns and fruit baskets, an old man with white hair and long tunic stopped him.  
  
"I am just on the way to hold a speech about renewable resources." Hershel put a hand on the shy man's shoulder. "Why don't you join me, young Michael."  
  
Daryl wrinkled his nose underneath his long bangs that were very tousled and unkempt after hours of training and stable work, and his facial expression didn't change much as he took his place in the auditorium near the big windows.  
  
"As the human population continues to rise again, the demand for resources increases." The old docent explained, striding slowly back and forth in front of his class. "Some of them have essentially an endless supply, such as solar and wind energy, while other resources are considered renewable even though some time or effort must go into their renewal, such as wood, oxygen, leather, and fish."  
  
Daryl didn't really listen. He was tired and couldn't concentrate. And after a while, he turned to look out of the window when a group of soldiers jogged by, led by Siddiq who did his best to step in for his charismatic brother.  
  
 _'Here we go!'_  
  
 _'HERE WE GO!'_  
  
 _'Every day!'_  
  
 _'EVERY DAY!'_  
  
 _'All the way!'_  
  
 _'ALL THE WAY!'_  
  
 _'What are we?'_  
  
 _'UNITY!'_  
  
Daryl's stomach tingled. He loved the stomping sound of the boots and the loud voices shouting in unison. He loved the black uniforms and how Siddiq ran next to the men just like Negan always did. He wished he could be in the yard with them instead of sitting in the stupid auditorium. After all, he would become an archer and not a renewable resources-person.  
  
"Most precious metals are considered renewable as well," Hershel casually walked to the windows to close them, since the troops had decided to practice their rowdy war cries during his lecture. "Even though they are not naturally replaced, they can be recycled because they are not destroyed during their extraction and use." He patted young Michael's shoulder, sure that it would be much easier to focus now.  
  
\----  
  
In the late evening of the 9th day after the troop's departed, long after sunset, a young man in fluttery, low hanging pants, slightly crinkled tunic and smeared makeup jogged all by himself on the infantry's training ground. Round and round, ignoring his aching muscles and the burning in his lungs.  
  
"Here we go." He whispered the words just quietly, far past the point to shout anything even if he wanted to. "Every day." But that was okay, because with every step he made his pride grew, along with his confidence that he would be able to join the troops on their next mission. "All the way."  
  
\----  
  
"No, that's what I've heard from old Lerey. A day's march, maybe two."  
  
On day 12 after the troop's departure, Daryl ran back home from the Bāzār as fast as his wide flowing pants would allow. The Emperor was on his way back. Everyone talked about it. The whole town was buzzing with excitement. The bakers already made special pastries and people started to decorate the streets with flags and flowers. Everything was supposed to be perfect for the soldiers return. The soldiers and Negan.  
  
Daryl almost tripped and fell as he entered the white stairs to the palace and the shiny floor of the huge entrance hall because six people were busy polishing it. Fresh fruit and floral bouquets were brought into every room, the fountains were cleaned as well as the windows and even the door handles. Daryl smiled from one ear to the other, feeling so happy he thought he would burst.  
  
He jogged up all the stairs and ran to the fountain yard, ignoring the girls and peacocks and the person cleaning the pretty tiled fish pond. He vanished into Paul's room, slammed the door shut and started to undress and pick out a ton of jewelry and makeup. He wasn't sure what to wear, but he wanted it to be the most special outfit he had ever put on his body. He wanted to look as perfect and beautiful as the shiny Sanctuary.    
  
\----  
  
Three hours later he sat frustrated in the fountain yard's bathroom. He had taken a bath and smelled nice. He had also brushed his hair and perfumed it. His eye makeup looked great after the third try. But he couldn't decide on any outfit to wear since everything looked kind of boring once he put it on. Also, none of the pretty jewelry would stay in his hair, and the wonderful peacock belly ring didn't fit back in the tiny pierced hole at his navel, no matter how often he tried to poke it through.  
  
"Should I help?" Pauline smiled as she slipped into the bathroom, holding the luxurious curtain to the side so Frankie could join her. "I got mine last winter. It took ages to heal."

Daryl looked up, instantly uncomfortable with the women entering the room. But Pauline seemed really friendly all of sudden and didn't giggle at all as she took the small belly ring out of his hands. And it was true, she wore one herself, so maybe she was able to help.  
  
"It's too early to take it out." Pauline fell gracefully to her knees in front of the stark naked man, threading the thinnest part of the jewelry carefully through the pierced skin. "But it looks like it's healing well."  
  
"Let me do this." Frankie came up at Daryl's backside, starting to braid a couple of dark blue beads into silky hair. "Are you happy that Jesus comes back?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl didn't dare to blink. He could feel Frankie's body pressing against his back and her warm breath brushing his skin. And on the floor was the other girl, very close to his genitals, doing things at his belly. He didn't like it and froze when lips touched his bare shoulder.  
  
"We can tell you like him." Pauline had attached the belly ring to Daryl's navel but stayed on her knees to tickle her fingertips gently along the man's bare hip, looking up at him with a seductive smile. "I mean... that is okay. He is cute. But it would be nice if you would spend some time with us as well." She kissed his thigh. "Don't you think?"  
  
Daryl's eyes flickered nervously from left to right, his heart drumming in his chest as if it tried to run away.  
  
"She is right," Frankie said, purposefully rubbing herself at the man's back while she finished braiding another thin strand and attached it on the left side of his head with a small golden ring. "We would love to get to know you better." She brushed some soft hair aside and kissed a warm neck. "You always give us the cold shoulder. That is not nice."    
  
"No, it's not." Pauline breathed, placing another kiss on Daryl's thigh. Then a third and fourth, making them more wet as she moved closer towards his crotch. "But it's not too late... we can still make up for all the lost time..."  
  
"Yes, we can." Frankie agreed, nibbling the slightly cool earlobe she found, then licked it. "Would you like that, Michael? Sleeping in our bed sometimes instead of Paul's?"  
  
Daryl's chest heaved with heavy breathing. He tried to suck his tummy in and duck his head to the side, feeling ill and very angry. He didn't know what to do. A million thoughts ran through his head. Was he supposed to behave, to serve, to be still and do nothing at all? He wanted Paul to come and Denise with the silver key. And when he felt thick women's breasts pressing in his back and something hot and wet at his shrunken penis and he glanced down to see the girl's lips on him, performing oral service as if he was a Governor, he didn't think at all anymore. His mind went blank and he punched so hard that his knuckles hurt. Then everyone screamed and pushed him. Pauline's face was red with blood and Frankie had fallen to the floor, calling him obscene names. Other girls came running, shrieking and shouting. Then some guards in uniform entered the fountain yard's bathroom to arrest the Sanctuary's newest chamberlain for sexual assault and violence towards women.  
  
\----  
  
"Oh Jeez..." On day 13 after the commander of the new world had left for a mission in the Empire's western territory, guard William rolled his eyes in front of one of the Sanctuary's detention cells. He knew it was dark and uncomfortable in there. He figured the food could be better. But he would have thought after almost 24 hours and granting the young prisoner some clothing in form of the standard sweatsuit, he would finally stop weeping.  
  
But no, he didn't. The uncontrollable sobbing changed into sad snivels and back to convulsive sobs. It started to get annoying.  
  
"HEY RAPIST!" He banged against the door. Three times. "We got it! You miss your Mama! Stop behaving like a god damn pussy!" He listened for a moment and couldn't believe his ears when nothing but peaceful silence was to be heard. Finally, after 23 hours and 52 minutes. He popped a date into his mouth, relaxing against the wall. He couldn't wait for the Emperor to get back. The public punishments for rape were by far the most entertaining.     
  
\----  
  
After a strenuous 14 days campaign, Negan made his way up to his private chambers in the West Wing. It was a while after midnight and his boots felt like rocks attached to his aching feet, getting heavier with each step he took.  
  
The moment he entered his dark study and the bedroom beneath, he knew without having to switch on the lights that his chamberlain wasn't present. Which was immensely disappointing. He had hoped to see him. At times during the past two weeks, the thought of seeing this sweet face again had been what kept him sane and functioning. But maybe it was better this way. He needed a quick wash and long sleep, and he probably wouldn't be able to get either of the two once he got a whiff of that intoxicating powdery scent.  
  
He sighed, not bothering to light up more than one lantern before he took his boots off and started to unlace his chest protector. It was unreal how sore his body felt. Every muscle tense and stiff. He groaned, moving his head from left to right, then rolled his shoulders. He got old. And he really needed a fucking quality mattress underneath his ass at night.      
  
"My Lord?" The door flew open without a warning and a breathless soldier with messy hair and dirty uniform entered the room, concern written all over his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir, but I need your-"  
  
Negan flung his armor somewhere to the left, too tired to care. "What, boy."  
  
Paul tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear. "Daryl got arrested."  
  
\----  
  
"My Lord!" Warden William quickly stubbed out the rest of his hand-rolled cigarette when a tall man in black-gold tunic came right up at him with a firm strut and more than serious expression on his handsome face. "I didn't know you are back alre-"  
  
"Open." Negan waved two fingers.  
  
"But my Lord, I-"  
  
"FUCKING OPEN I SAID!"  
  
William fumbled with his keys and unlocked cell number 11 with trembling fingers, stepping only reluctantly aside. "My Lord you really shouldn't go in without security!" He was pushed out of the way in the next second and got his knife out to at least be able to interfere should it be necessary.  
  
The stench of urine and vomit hit Negan's nostrils. The faint light from the corridor fell into the tiny room, revealing a man lying curled up in one corner. He was clad in a dirty, beige sweat suit that didn't match the remains of jewelry braided into his hair. "How long is he fucking in here."  
  
"Two days, my Lord."  
  
"What for."  
  
"Violence and attempted rape, my Lord."  
  
Negan huffed a laugh that didn't sound amused in the slightest. "Get him out."  
  
"But my Lord, we should-" William fell silent when his sovereign slowly turned around to look at him, "Of course." and then hastily entered the cell to pull the trembling prisoner to his feet. He guarded him out on the corridor, holding him by the upper arm. "Should I cuff him, Sir? I can get more guards to accompany you for-"  
  
"No." Negan held a hand up to silence the man. "Look at me." He tapped Daryl's chin then lifted it himself when his order wasn't followed. There was a small bruise underneath a lot of dirt and a thin scratch on the left cheek. "Is it true what he said. Did you hurt somebody."  
  
Daryl tried to turn his head and when that didn't work squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His pants were wet with pee, his sweater drenched with vomit and he could only guess how ugly his face looked like by now. He knew he would be punished. Publicly, with a hot iron in front of everyone before the Emperor would exile him forever. Because he was a rapist now. The guards had told him it was considered just as bad as murder in the new world and the Emperor despised it more than anything.  
  
He tried really hard not to cry again, but he couldn't help it. Everything he had worked for so hard was for nothing. He wouldn't be an archer, wouldn't ride next to Negan on the battlefield. He would never be kissed again or sleep on the wonderful floor cushion.  His time in the Empire was over.  
  
"Boy. Answer my fucking question!" Negan jerked his servant's chin, losing the meek rest of patience he could muster at this late hour. "Did you hurt somebody!"  

Daryl flinched, then nodded once.  
  
"Whom." Negan loosened his grip a little when the man sobbed soundly.  
  
"Girls." Daryl wasn't sure what their names were and he didn't care.  
  
Negan squinted, letting go of his chamberlain's chin. "You hurt girls? In the harem?"  
  
Daryl nodded, instantly dropping his head.  
  
"How did you hurt them."  
  
He grimaced, thinking of how it happened. All the tickling fingers and wet lips. "Rapist." It wasn't a word that was used in Alexandria but the guards had told him over and over again.  
  
The hard expression on Negan's face softened distinctly. "Mhm. What does that mean."  
  
Daryl wiped his runny nose with the back of his wrist, then showed his fist, imitating a small punch. His knuckles still hurt a bit.  
  
Negan sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Go back to your room. Tell Jesus to give you a bath and an apple." He tucked warden William by the sleeve. "And you. Take him."      
  
\----  
  
Seven young women in the Sanctuary's fountain yard sensed that they might be in serious trouble when a tall, intimidating man entered their private chambers at almost two in the morning, and they immediately released a tirade of seduction and self-defense.  
  
Negan wasn't interested to hear any of it and simply raised his hand. "Out. Everyone but Frankie and Pauline." His order was followed without a second of hesitation and he eyed the two remaining girls for a silent moment before he beckoned them closer. Indeed looked Pauline a bit battered in the nose and mouth area. "What happened here." As soon as Frankie opened her mouth, he gave a firm warning. "The fucking truth."  
  
"What do you think happened here?" Frankie sounded as defiantly as she looked. She gestured at Pauline. "Just look at her. We offered Michael our help with hair and jewelry and he freaked out like a psychopath!"  
  
"YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Paul stormed into the room, outraged. His long hair open, his wide, dark blue ankle-length tunic flowing dramatically after him like a 4-foot veil. He came right up at the young woman, stabbing her in the chest with his finger. "You better sleep with one eye open from now on because believe me I will fucking get my chance to-"  
  
"Paul." Negan pushed the man's arm down. "Enough." He looked back over his shoulder, seeing his chamberlain standing in safe distance. Clad in one of Paul's daringly low-cut tunics, his head down, his hair freshly washed and dried. "Daryl. Come here." He held a hand out and waited patiently until his order was followed. "They say they wanted to help you. Why did you punch her."  
  
Negan's tone wasn't really angry but stern and Daryl didn't want to answer. He clenched his fists at his sides, staring at his bare feet.  
  
"Go on!" Jesus crossed his arms, nudging Daryl with his elbow while he stared both of the young women down with dangerous, dark-framed eyes. "Tell him what you told me."     
  
Daryl dug his fingernails into his palms, staying silent.  
  
"That's laughable! Everybody saw what he did!" Frankie gestured, laughing. "He was arrested for a reason!"  
  
"SHE PUT HER FILTHY MOUTH ON HIS DICK!" Paul snarled in supreme contempt as he grabbed her by the throat. "He got arrested because he tried to defend himself!"  
  
Negan watched, his face growing dark. He took his time to peel the five dainty, prettily adorned fingers off the girl's neck. "Is that true?" His voice was calm but full of threat.  
  
Confronted with a direct question and a tone of icy hostility, Pauline's mouth grew dry, knowing she ran out of solid ground to stand on. She glanced up, wanting to hold her lover's gaze but quickly changed her mind and dropped her head. The last bit of clemency had evaporated from his expression, his face impassive and tilted back a little to effectively look down on her.  
  
She tried for a placable tone. "We just wanted to make out a bit. Thought he would enjoy some time with us."  
  
Negan huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh yeah? Why. Because you own a pair of tits and a dripping pussy? Don't fucking flatter yourself."  
  
"Come on!" Frankie didn't feel guilty at all. "You know he would have been all over us the minute he got here if he was a real man and not some chaste excuse for a girl! Just look at his pathetic-"  
  
"You little fucking dirty-" Paul was held back by a strong hand on the back of his tunic.  
  
"ENOUGH!" Negan forced the young man to face him. "Take him to the West Wing. I will be there in ten minutes."  
  
Working up the thickest glob of saliva from the depth of his throat to spit it right between Pauline's eyes was a possibility that shot through Paul's head for a second. But he didn't do it and instead took a polite half-bow in front of his commander, "My Lord." before he left the fountain yard, guiding Daryl along.  
  
Negan waited until they were gone, then waved two fingers. "Pack. Pillow, covers, clothing. Public trial is in a week."  
  
"What?" Frankie squinted in disbelief. "You can't put us under arrest! We're part of your harem!"  
  
"You are citizens of my Empire. You are not better than anyone else." He signaled for a guard to come closer. "You break the rules, you face the consequences."  
  
"You are insane!" Pauline's voice cracked in a weird panicky tone. "You put him above us?"  
  
Negan snorted, turning to leave. "Cells five and six."  
  
\----  
  
It was almost 3 AM when Negan came back to his private bedroom, his head hurting as much as the rest of his body. He didn't want to be awake another moment. He wanted to rest, no thinking anymore for 5 - 6 hours. No responsibility, no duties, no decisions. Just for a little while. Just peace and quiet.    
  
He shut the door, instantly relaxing a bit in the calm ambiance of his slightly cool room and the dim, orange glow of the brass lanterns. Paul and Daryl knelt quietly on the big floor cushion, unmoving, their heads lowered. He stepped in front of them, holding his hand out.  
  
"My Lord." Paul kissed the golden ring he was offered and felt all the tension leave his body when the back of his head was caressed gently.  
  
"Go to bed. You need rest."  
  
The order was a quiet one and he nodded, gracefully rising to his feet.  
  
"My bed."  
  
The added words were almost a whisper and brought happiness and relief along. Jesus smirked faintly, brushed Negan's arm for the briefest moment as he went by, carelessly dropped his tunic and almost instantly fell into the most relaxed state as soon as his exhausted body made contact with a thick mattress.  
  
"'m sorry." It wasn't what Daryl was supposed to say while he paid respect to his leader. But the moment his lips touched the smooth teal gem of a golden ring the words came out on their own. He held on to the Emperor's big hand and closed his eyes, breathing against the man's knuckles.  
  
"Don't be." Negan didn't retract his fingers, enjoying the intimate contact. He combed his other hand through silky long strands of hair, "You did well. I'm fucking proud of you." then tipped Daryl's chin up for firm eye contact. Genuine and serious. He liked this beautiful, pale face without jewelry and make-up. All soft and natural, not hidden by anything. "You beat up every fucker coming near you without consent. Even women." He held the strict stare for a moment before the corners of his eyes crinkled with a slight smile. "Or your leader. You don't like it, you knock their fucking teeth out. No exceptions. That's an order." He pinched a smooth chin and left for the bathroom. "Go to sleep, boy."    
  
\----  
  
No matter how hard he tried, Daryl couldn't fall asleep. His mind was racing, pictures popping into his head, voices, people. Stretford at the Bāzār. Sneaky peacocks. An angry Jesus with pretty, long dangling earrings. Mister Blake on the battlefield. Siddiq making a happy jump when a bolt hit the target right in its middle. Baby Navid trying to bite his finger with toothless gums. Women with ugly red lips. Furious guards and the pitch black of a scary prison cell. Fear. Sadness. And the mighty, tall Emperor suddenly standing there in his palatial black-golden tunic, a small cut on the left side of his forehead, a scratch on his cheek and on the bridge of his nose, a fading bruise somewhere near his eye. Still breathtakingly beautiful. Authoritative, powerful and caring.  
  
He could smell him right now. Clean skin and a hint of lime and wood. He could sense him lying in his huge bed, not asleep though. He could tell by his breathing. It was nice to be in his presence and in his room, under his protection.  
  
He wiped a strand of hair from his eyes and sat up. And after a minute or two of hesitation, he climbed off his cushion and moved it across the room, his heart pounding in his chest the closer he got to the big bed.  
  
When he was almost at the heavy wooden nightstand, he stopped and glanced up but there was no movement or word of objection. So he gave his cushion a last push to place it right in front of Negan's side of the bed, and lay down, holding his breath. Nothing happened for a long time and he almost fell asleep, his eyes growing pleasantly heavy.  
  
"What did you do while I was gone."  
  
The voice came as a total surprise, rolling through the dark, deep and smooth, like gravel on thick velvet. It sent sparkles through Daryl's chest. Excitement of the very best kind.  
  
"Did you play with the other peacocks?"  
  
The words were low and weighted down with tiredness, but they came accompanied by playfully lazy fingertips, two or three, Daryl couldn't tell. He just knew they electrified his whole body, making his heart stumble for a second and his breath all confused as it tried to travel through his lungs. Even though they barely touched him. Just the side of his face, tracing the line of his cheekbone, the form of his ear and caressed his hair like it was something precious.  
  
He wanted to nod and say 'Yes', but then he didn't because he hadn't really played with the peacocks. "'was at the Bazar." His voice sounded strange. Gruff and hoarse and not as friendly as he wanted it to be, but his urge to answer was bigger than his embarrassment. "'n at the doctor." He held perfectly still while the fingers played with his earlobe.  
  
"Did you get your shots?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl's lips twitched into a tiny proud smile.  
  
"Good." Negan took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "What about your training?"  
  
"'did push-ups." Daryl pulled his shoulder up when the fingers tickled beneath his ear, but lowered it as far as he could a second later to give better access. "And shootin'."  
  
Dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What did you shoot?"  
  
Daryl turned his head a bit, wanting to see the man's face. "Crossbow." He felt so happy to say it out loud.  
  
Negan opened his eyes, his fingers stilling. "Where did you get a fucking crossbow?"  
  
Daryl pointed towards the balcony doors. "Siddiq."  
  
"Mh." Negan squinted in the dark, not sure how he felt about that. "Did he teach you how to use it?" He brushed the tips of his fingers absently from his chamberlain's forehead, over his nose, to his lips, exploring their shape.     
  
"Mhm."  
  
He could feel them moving into a faint smile. He closed his eyes, smiling as well. "You like it?"  
  
"Yes." Daryl liked it all. The crossbow, the training, and the finger tracing his mouth. It had a spicy scent to it and tasted a bit salty.  
  
Negan inhaled deeply when the very tip of a silky tongue made contact with the pad of his finger. He spread the bit of wetness along a soft bottom lip, undecided for a second how he wanted to proceed, before he moved his hand to a safer area, letting it comb through longish hair. "You wanna join the morning drill, cadet?" He got a nod instantly, combined with the most hopeful answer.  
  
"Yes?"     
  
"Alright." He smiled, patting the young man's cheek, then offered the back of his hand. "Bid good night then. You'll want to be fit in the morning."  
  
Daryl held Negan's thumb and pinkie and kissed twice. Once on a broad ring, once the skin above. "'g night." He glanced up and huffed a nervous breath before he added a shy 'My Lord' and was rewarded with two fingers caressing his lips before the hand was taken away.  
  
He still couldn't sleep. Confused butterflies twirled through his stomach and exciting pictures of the upcoming morning drill danced through his head.  
  
He wasn't an evil rapist. He would be an archer, riding next to the mighty Emperor over the battlefield.  
  
  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your sweatpants out, you wanna join the morning drill, lazy summer puppies. You shall be rewarded with someone throwing someone up against a tree (not in the moonlight, though... sorry Normski)


	15. ما بِه یِک آسِمانْ نِگاهْ می کُنیمْ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ما بِه یِک آسِمانْ نِگاهْ می کُنیمْ - We look at the same sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Sarah-boo for reminding me that it's Sunday and I should post *hugsyourcuteface*

 

"Don't you fucking cum." Negan growled, changing positions. He moved Paul's knees toward his ears and stretched out so he could use his full body weight. 

Paul whimpered, reaching out with both hands to find muscular arms, holding onto them as he was taken. He threw his head back, completely lost in ecstasy. Negan drove the breath from his lungs, pounding into him with ferocity. He could feel him swell, heard the change in breathing and clenched his muscles to push him over the edge. 

Negan groaned, staring down with possessive sweaty face, thrusting in hard, one final time as he released his seed and enjoyed the despair on his boy's pretty, flushed features. 

"Fuck." Paul arched his back when his prostate was nudged in the exact right way, his legs trembling as he lost control over his overstimulated body and climaxed himself, digging ten fingernails into muscled arms. He squeezed his eyes shut, a tiny smirk crooking his lips. "Shit. Sorry."

Negan huffed a low chuckle, scraping Paul's neck with his teeth. "Oh, you fucking will be." He let go of the man's legs and sank down, squishing the lite body into the mattress with his own weight as he allowed himself a minute in post-coital bliss to catch his breath. He brushed some sweaty hair out of Paul's forehead and closed his eyes. Then turned his head and opened them again, seeing his young chamberlain staring at him.

He was kneeling in front of the bed on his thick floor cushion, his hair a bit sleep-ruffled but his eyes fully awake, holding a mixture of reproach and curiosity.

Negan groaned, digging his face into the pillow.  "Good morning, boy."

Daryl heard the muffled words but didn't answer and instead turned to look in the opposite direction. He didn't like that the Emperor used Jesus for anal service and not him.

Negan sighed, patted Paul's cheek, "Go wash and put that fucking dick in a cage." and got up. He didn't even attempt to cover his nudity, ruffling Daryl's hair as he passed him. "Time for morning duty."  

\----

The bathroom smelled like sandalwood, jasmine and the warm oil Negan used to nourish his freshly trimmed beard. He glanced at the young man he saw in the mirror, standing behind him in a polite distance, a towel in one hand and a glass of tea in the other. A pretty piece of jewelry was attached to his exposed navel. "I see you received my gift." He wiped his jaw and neck with a hot cloth. "You like it?" 

"Yes." Daryl's head shot up, glad that he was finally spoken to. He was also happy that the Emperor had noticed the piercing and he stuck out his belly a bit more to show it off.

A slight smile flickered over Negan's face. He dried his hands off and dropped the towel, turning around to face his bashful chamberlain. "Mhm." He pursed his lips and stopped right in front of Daryl, straightening to full size to flaunt all of his mostly bare body. "Did it hurt?"

"Hm." Daryl glanced up shyly, his eyes distracted momentarily by the gold necklace laying around a broad neck. It accentuated the hollows above the Emperor's collarbones and had a drop-shaped pendant attached to it that rested against beautifully dark chest hair. It looked like someone had poured molten gold right between hard pecs. 

Negan liked the direction blue eyes traveled and stepped another inch closer to spread his scent. "Have you been brave for me?" He received a sincere nod and made a mental note to have Bob take a look at the rather fresh piercing in his servant's belly. "Very good. It looks fucking hot on you." 

Daryl couldn't say anything but quickly nodded again because it was true, it looked awesome on him. He looked almost as beautiful as Jesus and he peeked up through his tousled bangs and huffed a nervous breath. The Emperor was so tall and pretty and he smelled so nice.

Negan nudged the tip of his right canine tooth with his tongue, "Vain little peacock." enjoying the innocent mooneyes he was given. "Is that tea for me?"

"Yes." Daryl lifted the glass instantly and accidentally bumped it against a bare chest, spilling a few drops. 

Negan didn't seem to care, though. He held firm eye contact with a tiny amused sparkle as he took the glass and emptied it in one go. Then handed it back and leaned in close to take a whiff of that intoxicating powdery scent and speak right next to a prettily adorned ear. "Thank you so much. You may assist me in the dressing room now."

Daryl's heart beat noticeably faster and strangely enough thumped all through his body even down into his lower belly when he watched the mighty Emperor leave the humid bathroom. He drew in a deep breath but forgot to let it back out as he looked after him and needed another moment until the request he had received reached his brain. He flicked his head and followed. It was really good that Negan was back. 

\----

Daryl scratched the side of his head, tousling his hair in the process as he looked around. The barracks changing room was buzzing already in the early morning. The entire first infantry was present to prepare for the morning drill, and despite the early hour, everyone seemed really motivated. The men joked and laughed, talked about the last military campaign and at one point a soldier threw a shoe across the room with a loud 'Oh shut up, Barry!'. Daryl flinched and ducked his head, then tugged the seam of his black training pants. They were pretty but really tight. Not at all like the thin, fluttery pants he wore usually. A soldier had given them to him because he had no uniform or training clothes of his own. He had also received a pair of black combat boots. They were freshly polished, a bit too big and very heavy, feeling like cement on his legs. He loved them anyway and couldn't stop staring down because he looked like a real soldier now from head to toe and he was standing inside the barracks with all the others and nobody seemed to mind. It made his chest swell with pride. 

"A-TTEN-TION!"  

A loud voice silenced the crowded changing room in the split of a second and brought everyone to stand at attention. 300 heels clicked in unison. Or at least 298, because the newest attendee to the infantry's morning drill turned first in the wrong direction, then bumped against private Hemetsberger, before he finally faced the door like all the others and awkwardly took the required position.

"LEFT - RIGHT - LEFT - MARCH!"

The whole group started to move in lockstep, out of the changing room, past the medical room and Sergeant Ford's office, outside onto the yard, where they stopped in a perfect marching formation, with everybody looking straight ahead, unblinking and unmoving. Except for a young man in the very back of the troop, who craned his neck and then looked back over his shoulder because he couldn't see the Emperor anywhere. He could see Jesus, though. He stood three rows in front of him and looked very different in his black training outfit. He didn't wear any jewelry and not even kohl around his eyes. His long hair was put into a bun at the back of his head and he stood all straight and stiff like all the others, not moving a single muscle.

"Eyes front, cadet!"

Daryl flinched at the sudden loud voice right next to him and then his belly clenched and tickled strangely because a very tall man in polished black boots and black training outfit stood to his left. He looked like everyone else, except for the two thick black stripes adorning his perfectly sculpted cheeks, shiny black studs in his earlobes, and a white bandage around his wrist.

Negan didn't repeat his order but unceremoniously grabbed his chamberlain's chin to direct his head in the requested position. "Private Englert, are we complete?"

A man first row clicked his heels. "Yes, Sir! 150! Private Walker is back from the infirmary and we have a new recruit, Sir!"   

"That's right." Negan put both hands behind his back, turning to face his troops. "Daryl is eager to join the morning drill today. Let's honor his commitment and show him what the Empire stands for!" He received a roaring 'Yes, Sir!' gave a nod and then leaned into a young soldier's private space, almost nose to cheek. "Is there a problem with your fucking ears, private?"

Private Ramirez swallowed nervously. "No, Sir!"

"That's hard to believe because I asked you just yesterday to clean your fucking boots and yet you're here again with a pound of fucking mud on your feet!"

The young man blinked and blushed violently, trying his best to keep a straight posture. "I- uhm was-"

"Hh." Negan soundly sucked his right canine tooth, then addressed another soldier in a casual tone. "Jackson. Enlighten us. Why do you wanna keep yourself and your fucking uniform in top shape."

Private Jackson held his head a bit higher. "I am proud to serve the Empire and wear my uniform with pride, Sir! Maintaining a neat appearance promotes self-discipline and discipline is a cornerstone of an effective military, Sir!"

"Hm." Negan nodded. "So, what do you wanna fucking do with the awesome boots you were given so you won't have to run around barefoot in the fucking field!"

The entire group answered their commander's question. "WE KEEP THEM CLEAN, SIR!"

Negan nodded and brushed a bit of nonexistant dust off private Dirtyboot's shoulder. "See? It’s not that god damned difficult, Private. It’s not like I asked you to eat a bushel of apples and shit a fruit salad!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Tomorrow morning I want those shoes fucking spit shined!" Negan bellowed right into his soldier's face. "I want to admire my fucking marvelous reflection in them, is that understood!"

Private Ramirez raised his voice for a firm answer. "YES, SIR!"

"GREAT! THREE MILES!" Negan lifted his arm and turned on his heels, starting to jog next to his troops. "FORWARD, MARCH!" 

\----

"FEELING GOOD!"

_"Feeling good!"_

"FEELING FINE!"

_"Feeling fine!"_

"HERE WE GO!"

_"Here we go!"_

After a bit of struggle to fall into rhythm and line with the others, the first mile went really great. Daryl didn't know the cadence being sung but he soundlessly repeated a few words and he could keep up the pace, totally enthralled by the thunderous stomping of the boots around him.

"LEFT - LEFT RIGHT LEFT!"

The second mile was a lot harder. He started to sweat a bit, his legs felt heavy and his feet started to hurt in the sturdy combat boots. He glanced at Jesus and was jealous because the beautiful servant didn't look tired at all. And he really wished one of the people with fresh water or juicy fruits would cross their way because he was very thirsty. It didn't happen, though. Instead, a lot of people saluted the group of soldiers and the tall man jogging right beside them like a chaperone. It made Daryl's belly tickle every time it happened because now he was one of the Empire's soldiers, not just a Chamberlain.

"PAIN!"

_"Pain!"_

"IN MY BACK!"

_"In my back!"_

"I DON'T CARE!"

_"I don't care!"_

"I PUT IT THERE!"

_"I put it there!"_

Fifteen minutes later he wasn't so sure anymore about being a soldier, because his chamberlain-feet pounded the dusty road with all the grace of a sack of wet sand by now. His rasping throat was as parched as a dead lizard in the desert sun, his eyes felt heavy in their sockets, his clothes and hair, slick with perspiration, clinging to his skin. Sweat rolled down his face and neck in thick, salty beads. He could feel his heart throbbing inside his chest as he stumbled along behind the others as fast as he could, trying to ignore the awful stinging in his calves. He had never been more exhausted in his life.

Two minutes later he had to stop, not able to make another step. His lungs felt like they would burst and his throat was so dry it hurt. He tried to catch his breath and glanced through dripping hair at the group jogging along without him. All but the tall man with black ear studs who didn't stop to call his cadence but let himself fall back to join the man they had left behind.

"PAIN!"

_"Pain!"_

"IN MY LEGS!"

_"In my legs!"_

"I DON'T CARE!"

_"I don't care!"_

"I PUT IT THERE!"

_"I put it there!"_

He placed a hand on the small of his chamberlain's back to move him forward, firm but gently.

"I LIKE IT THERE!"

_"I like it there!"_

Daryl wanted to say that he really couldn't run anymore, but then he didn't because his legs actually moved somehow and the mighty Emperor shouting next to him felt almost as good as the supporting hand in his back. Especially when Negan faced him for just a moment instead of staring straight ahead and yelled directly into his ear with a slight smirk on his face.

"I LOVE IT THERE!"

_"I love it there!"_

He didn't repeat the words with all the others but he smiled a tiny bit because it was the truth.

\----  

Even after a cool bath, drinking a gallon of water, and changing into a thin tunic and wide flowing pants, Daryl's cheeks were still glowing in a feverish shade of red and his eyes barely stayed open. The Emperor's quiet, cool study and the thick floor cushion underneath his sore body made him want to curl up and sleep. For at least seven hours, dreaming of the morning drill he had accomplished like a real soldier. 

But he wasn't allowed to sleep. He was supposed to study for the silly presentation about coconuts. Negan had told him so. He had received a book with almost no pictures and a lot of boring, very difficult words that made his tired eyes even heavier. He really hated the auditorium and all the weird coconut palm trees growing in the Empire. Just not the nuts because they were kind of tasty.

"Ksst." Negan glanced up from his papers and gestured with his pen. He enjoyed the company of his chamberlain, even with all the huffs and sighs full of annoyance with every book page that got finished. He looked nice in his turquoise outfit and the powdery scent he spread through the entire study was very soothing. Not to mention the five prettily adorned fingers that just kept fondling shrunken genitals through the sheer fabric of those fluttery pants. The latter was fucking distracting, though. "Don't touch yourself, please." 

Daryl wrinkled his nose as he looked up and needed a moment to make the connection between the request and his hand that had a life of its own. He shook his head and meant to say that he wasn't really touching himself, just by accident, but then a dark eyebrow was cocked at him and he didn't say anything, just straightened his back to show off his beautiful shiny belly ring.

Negan chuckled and leaned back in his heavy chair, deciding that a short break probably wouldn't hurt. "How's your presentation going?"

Daryl shrugged but lifted the book two inches to show that he was reading something about coconut fiber.

"You like the topic?" Negan got a shrug again, followed by a hesitant shake of the head. He suppressed a smirk. "How come? Would you like to speak about something else?" Big blue eyes looked at him and he could tell that a million words shot through that pretty head, eager to tell about soldiers, a woman named Denise, or maybe horseriding. But just one word came out.

"Yes." Daryl flicked his head and tugged the seam of his pants, fondling his penis again in the process. He would have liked to speak about the wonderful Emperor, the beautiful servant, the fireworks for the fallen, and all the awesome food the Empire had. He didn't want to speak about it at the auditorium. But at a walk with Lucille or at the canteen. 

Negan gave a brief whistle through his teeth and gestured with his pen again to stop the hand in the prettiest crotch he had ever seen. "Stop it. Tell me what you would like to talk about."

"Food."

It was a shy answer that surprised him a bit. "Really. What would you like to tell about the food here?"

Daryl shifted on his place on the thick cushion, flicking his head again. It was so nice that the Emperor talked to him. "'s free." It was also very good and got served on a silver tray. He liked everything about it.

"Hm." Negan nodded, studying his chamberlain for a silent moment. "You know what? That's actually a fucking great topic to give a speech about." He sat up and took a new document off the pile he had to work through. "Do it." He signed his name, went through two judicial decisions, one building application, signed his name once more and knew he was still stared at even before he looked up again. He sighed, grabbing a slip of paper. "Come here." He wrote one word down, trying to ignore the alluring faint jingling of golden jewelry and the powdery scent getting more prominent. "Here." He handed the note over. "That's what you start with."

Daryl stared at the single word written with black ink on a luxurious piece of paper. N A Z R I. He glanced up, not sure what to do with it.

"It's pronounced 'Nazr'. It is an ancient Persian tradition to hand out free food for everyone. My parents established it in the new world. What do you think why they did that?"

Daryl held the note like a precious treasure in both hands, liking to be so close to the Emperor's desk. "They're nice." Unlike the Governor who always kept the best food for all the important people.

Negan chuckled. "No. They did it because it's fucking stupid to not feed your people well. Food is not optional. Everybody needs it to stay fit and do their best work." He patted his chamberlain's butt and gestured for him to go and sit down again. "Providing everyone with nutritious food means the society you're building will run smoothly. People are happier, healthier, and the leader has the ability to control what kind of crap people stuff in their mouth and how much. At the end of the day he won't have to pay for a ton of rotten teeth or pants in special sizes. Win-win." He arched his brows at the slightly dumbfounded face looking at him. "Now start working." He signed another paper. "And stop touching yourself already. It's fucking distracting." 

\----

In the early afternoon, the fountain yard was usually quiet and uneventful because most people were out, busy with chores, training, or work. Today was different, though. Thirty-five minutes after lunch a sturdy man with bright smile on his face and battle axe in hand had entered to announce the arrival of His Imperial Highness. The booming voice had made not only the parrots in the big golden cage flutter nervously around, but also had the female part of the Emperor's harem in a whirl of excitement. Flowery perfume was sprayed, the best lingerie was pulled out of heavy drawers, and a fresh layer of makeup got applied at lightning speed. A chance for coitus was rare after all in times of belly dancing male-servants and chamberlains who had unimpeded access to the Sanctuary's private chambers in the West Wing.  

Daryl sat cross-legged near the fish pond to polish his black combat boots and scrunched up his nose in utter disgust as he watched three of the ugly giggling girls fawning over the Emperor who slouched with spread thighs on the dark blue velvet sofa, receiving the massage he had asked for. His hair was slicked back but more to the right side of his head. Black kohl accentuated his dark eyes and he wore his trademark leather uniform, including the black strap on his upper arm. The one with the gold buckle.  

Daryl liked it. But not the way the annoying girls touched muscular shoulders, or how they fed grapes to the Emperor with their dainty thin fingers, or how they kept kissing his ear and neck. He hated it and wished Chicken or Goose would come to pick the nasty fake lashes off their eyes.

"Will you stay for a while longer, my Lord?" Claudine almost climbed on Negan's leg, purring sensual propositions into his ear before she gave it another kiss. "I promise you won't regret it."

"I have work to do." Negan tipped his head to the left and shoved Claudine to the right because she was blocking the view to the fish pond. Usually, he didn't visit the fountain yard midday. But his back hurt like hell and Trisha really gave great massages. Although he had to admit that the wilting lion orchid deep-tissue shit she had learned somewhere in San Francisco wasn't the only reason for him to come here. He also wanted to see his chamberlain after missing him in the canteen for lunch. And now that he was here, he surely wasn't disappointed. The boy looked gorgeous as always and even more pretty between all the colorful plants and tiles and pillows. He was obviously busy cleaning the spare pair of boots he had received for the morning drill and by the grim look on his face and the angry force he worked the brush over the black leather Negan could tell that the young servant wasn't happy with all the girls tending to his needs. Jealousy. Nothing he was a fan of normally, but right now he kind of enjoyed it. It was cute somehow.

"Oh, come on... we've missed you so much." Maria raked her red fingernails through the short hair on the back of Negan's neck, sliding closer to his side to present her perfect breasts and the new, very thin top they were barely covered with. "We could have some fun until dinner. In the pool..." She kissed his jaw, "Or the bedroom."   

"No." Negan pushed her off with the back of his hand but his voice was as gentle as the faint smile on his lips. "I said I have to work." He kept his eyes firmly on the young man by the fish pond as he got up and slowly closed the distance, stopping right in front of his chamberlain. "Salam. What are you doing, cadet."

Daryl stopped scrubbing and glanced up, in awe of the long legs that vanished underneath an awesome leather kilt. "Cleanin'." He lifted a heavy combat boot half an inch off the ground. He was very proud of them and had no problems to understand why the Emperor wanted them nice and shiny. He also didn't want a lecture in front of everyone like private Ramirez.

Negan pursed his lips, nodding, "Very good. I see you paid attention this morning." and then squatted down with a sigh, granting a generous look between his legs. "Should I show you how you get them really shiny?"

"Hm." Daryl's eyes darted from the glimpse of black underwear he saw up to the Emperor's face and raised his shoulder to rub his ear against, feeling his stomach flutter in a really strange way. "Okay." He held the shoe up and then moved his head back almost startled when Negan spat a thick glob of saliva on the polished leather as if it was the most common thing to do.

"Now brush." Negan nudged the sole of the shoe with two fingers. "It'll make them extra shiny and you'll run way faster." The way his chamberlain lowered his head to hide a coy smile poked somewhere into the left side of his war-hardened chest. He wasn't sure if he liked it and got up to bring more distance between his nose and the intoxicating powdery scent of silky hair. His traitorous hand reached out to touch it anyway, tucking a strand behind a pale ear adorned with several filigree rings. 

Daryl moved the bristles of his brush carefully over the top of his boot to spread the precious spit all over and peeked up through long bangs, wishing it was already time for the next morning drill so he could show his pimped shoes off in the barrack's changing room and run a bit more right next to the beautiful Emperor.

Negan held his hand out. "Say 'See you later, my Lord'." He could hear two of the girls behind him sigh and whisper something about 'Michael' and 'Of course he gets all the attention again' and frankly couldn't have cared fucking less. Especially when blue eyes shyly looked up at him and pink lips touched first the gem of his ring and then one of his knuckles. He wasn't sure whether all of the words were repeated correctly but he heard a mumbled 'My Lord' and was instantly satisfied. "See you later, cadet." He left with a wink and wasn't even really annoyed by the shit-eating grin on his guard's face. 

\----

The first day back after a long campaign was always hard. There wasn't a bone or muscle that didn't hurt, not enough time to catch up on some sleep, and the desk was flowing over with reports, petitions, pleas and applications. And yet the normal daily work had to continue. Three hours at the office after morning drill, twelve audiences in the late morning, a visit to the newly opened retirement home instead of lunch, training with the cavalry in the afternoon. 

At least Lucille seemed to take it all well. After a night in her box under the care of three stable boys who treated her like royalty she had regained her energy and even after a two-hour training session on the riding ground she wasn't maxed out. Negan took advantage of it. It was still more than an hour until dinner and the celebrations in town he was supposed to attend after that, so he decided to go for a ride. No guards, no specific destination. Just him and his mare, spurring her into a full-blown gallop in open terrain. He loved it. The power of the horse underneath him, not thinking anything just enjoying the adrenalin rush.

Lucille was breathing hard after twenty minutes and he leaned back in his seat when the Sanctuary's north side came into sight, slowing her down. The shooting range usually wasn't frequented in the late afternoon but as he came closer he could see a single person practicing target shooting. An archer. He wore a very short top made of sheer dark green fabric and low hanging pants in the same color. It revealed his stomach and the golden jewelry adorning his belly button. More jewelry was braided into his longish hair. Delicate rings, blue and golden beads, along with a thin chain lying around the back of his head. He didn't wear any shoes, but a jingling ankle bracelet that didn't match at all with the heavy crossbow he held in both hands. Very concentrated, in a firm stance, both eyes open as he aimed and squeezed the trigger. The bolt hit its target right in the middle and another one followed not even ten seconds later. Negan was impressed. He wasn't a bowman himself, but he knew how difficult it was to cock that damn thing and reload. One needed a lot of strength, and to shoot and hit the target a lot of practice. His chamberlain in his dolled-up appearance obviously had both.

"Seems Jesus was right." He came to a halt, taking the reins in one hand. "I should take you with me next time. Looks like you could be useful on the battlefield."  

Daryl's stomach flip-flopped in surprise and excitement. He hadn't seen the Emperor coming but now he was so glad that he was here and had seen him shooting so well. "Yes." He nodded in full agreement, unable to contain a proud smile. He was really good with the crossbow and could keep the Emperor safe in battle. "'m very good." 

"Mhm." A smirk climbed from Negan's lips up to his eyes. This boy really was a vain little peacock. "Can you mount by now, cadet?"

Daryl flicked his head as he eyed the huge black mare. He could mount his small grey horse, but surely not Lucille. He didn't want to say that, though and rather nodded cautiously. "Yes."

Negan chuckled and got off his horse. "She's big." He took the weapon out of his servant's hands and shouldered it. "Maybe you need some assistance."

There wasn't much time to contradict. Daryl was shoved to Lucille's left and held on to a thick strand of mane when his foot was grabbed in a firm grip, together with a commanding 'Up!'. He jumped without even thinking about it and was pushed up the tall horse as if he wouldn't weigh much at all. He watched Negan walk off to collect two bolts from the target before he mounted effortlessly behind him from a standing position. He looked back over his shoulder and bumped into a bearded jaw, earning a grin.

"Eyes front, cadet." Negan reached around his chamberlain and took the reins, squeezing his lower legs to urge Lucille into a slow walk. He had missed this while he had been away on campaign. The girls he had taken along hadn't been a good substitute. Yes, they were pretty and knew how to perform in bed, but they weren't the company he longed for lately. What he wanted sat between his thighs right now. Warm and soft, smelling like all the oils and soaps the Sanctuary's fountain yard had to offer. Beautiful unique clothing, combined with plenty of dangling jewelry. Dark green color around curious blue eyes. The silkiest hair he had ever combed his fingers through. And that shy voice, still kind of rough after years of silence. He adored it all much more than he probably should.  

"Are we goin' to the chickens?" Daryl didn't try to turn around this time. He tried not to move at all, feeling the Emperor's solid body behind him and the flexing of muscular thighs against his own. He smelled really good. Male, mixed with a hint of fresh sweat and warm leather, spice and the slight note of citrus that always followed him around. It was a comforting scent and he allowed himself to lean back against that broad chest, feeling rough stubble against his hair, warm breath on his ear, and Negan's middle pressing against his butt, sending excited sparks all through his body. 

"No. We go for a ride until it's time for dinner." Negan looped an arm around his servant's waist, holding him securely as he nudged the horse first into a trot, then a faster canter. "Sit back." He fanned out his fingers over a pretty, bare belly, exerting slight pressure. "Legs loose. Hold on with your thighs."

It made something flutter in Daryl's stomach. He felt his face flush warm and the hairs on his neck stand. And then a firework of pure happiness exploded when this majestic black horse was urged into a full gallop across the open fields and lawns behind the silvery palace. Muscles rolling underneath a supple coat, a flowing mane whipping in the wind, hooves pounding the ground... a strong arm and broad chest holding him securely in place.

\----

"Yes. We take enough with us. But we cut firewood on the way." Negan shifted his weight to his outside hip and dug his heel into the horses' right side, gearing her towards the small almond plantation on the east side. He could tell Lucille was done after another 15 minutes of running. Her neck was lathered in thick sweat, curling the short hairs of her coat. But that was alright. He enjoyed the slower gait just as much. "Have you never been on a campaign with the Alexandrian troops?"

Daryl shook his head. "No." He liked riding with the Emperor so much. Listening to all the stories about battles and camp life. Sitting so close to him. Having long fingers play with his navel piercing and the fabric covering the inside of his thigh. It was all so nice and he wished it would go on forever. 

"What did you do all by yourself while your-" Negan glared at nothing in particular, then pressed his cheek to Daryl's ear, pulling him just slightly closer. "-while Philip was gone."

Daryl opened his legs a bit more because something in his lower belly tickled. "'served his friends 'n visitors." He took a deep breath and nuzzled briefly against rough facial hair. He really wanted to kiss. "Do your bedroom girls fight." He tried to imagine Trisha with a gun or sword, but somehow the picture seemed wrong.

"They're not bedroom girls." The image of himself fucking Tanja in a tent somewhere in the northern territory after a long day on horseback popped into Negan's mind and for some reason it made him angry. "And they don't fight. They join campaign to keep me fucking company in the evening." 

Daryl turned his head to look at the Emperor. "Like Jesus?"

The innocent expression in blue eyes and the scent of sun-warmed skin and wind-ruffled hair darkened Negan's mood even more. He held the curious gaze for a moment, "Not like Jesus." then got off the horse, leading it closer to the trees. He fastened the reins loosely around a low hanging branch, maybe a bit harshly. "He's not like them."

"I can be like him." It was a quiet statement, sounding a bit gruff. 

And it made Negan pause for a second. "Yeah?" He gave a low chuckle, finished the knot and turned around, facing his servant. "Will you dance for me?"  

Daryl blinked through his longish bangs and lifted one shoulder, bewildered by the question.

Negan dropped the crossbow and stepped closer, taking hold of a smooth forearm to help the young man off the horse. "Practice martial arts?"  

Daryl slid ungracefully off Lucille's back and was reminded of the height difference between him and the leader of the new world as he stood crowded against the big mare. "No." He glanced up a bit intimidated and blindly touched his butt. "Analservice." He knew nothing about martial arts or dancing but he was really good at pleasuring people.

Negan pursed his lips before they crooked into a half-smirk. "Mhm." He cocked his head to the left, scrutinizing his chamberlain's nervous face. "There's no analservice in my Empire." He leaned closer, studying every beautiful detail of green framed eyes and long, dark blond lashes. "We fuck. If two people like each other and both agree to it they fuck each other's brains out." He was delighted by the flustered huff of breath escaping pink lips and licked his own, dipping his head as if to kiss but didn't. Instead, he brushed the tip of his nose very subtly across a flushed cheek, paused and inhaled, before he went back to this enticing mouth. He touched it barely with his own and locked eyes. "Now's your chance to knock my teeth out, cadet." The weak little shake of the head he got for an answer was adorable and he allowed himself to show a brief smile in return, shaking his head as well before he took possession of soft lips. First slow and gentle, sliding his fingers along a warm neck underneath silky waves of hair. Then with growing hunger, pouring 14 long days of need into a kiss that quickly got deep and explicit. Daryl's lips were warm and deliciously sweet beneath his, like melting honey. He swept his tongue against them, licking and teasing, making the kiss as sexual as it could be. He tried not to push too hard and fast, but it wasn't easy. This boy tasted like sin and felt like something that definitely belonged in his arms. His smooth body rubbed against him, making his pulse roar and his dick so hard he could have hammered nails with the damn thing.

He tore his mouth away for a brief moment, sensing that Daryl struggled for breath, and locked his gaze on blue eyes, clouded with confusion and pure excitement, before he caught those addicting lips again, going back for a deeper taste. The feel and flavor of his young servant made him crazy and cranked his lust up fast to a dark, dangerous level that left him a hairs-breadth away from pumping his cum out in his underwear like some sex-starved virgin. He wrapped strands of silky hair around his knuckles to hold the boy in place and shoved the other hand into the back of low hanging, fluttery pants, palming a smooth ass, incredibly soft and cool to the touch. He made a thick, primitive sound in the back of his throat, imagining how good it was going to be to bury himself there. He grasped Daryl around the waist and lifted him up, pressing his crotch between spread thighs. Surprisingly strong arms curled around his shoulders, holding on tight as he turned around and made two steps, pushing his servant against the nearest almond tree. He growled, fighting for control, knowing he couldn't push this too far, no matter how badly he wanted to. He had to clear up fronts first. But damn it, he wanted this boy. Needed to have his mouth on that soft freckled skin. Needed this pretty, thin tunic out of the way so he could lick and suck his way from pink nipples down to that delicious adorned belly button. He was hard and aching to the point of pain, ready to throw his beautiful Chamberlain onto the nearest flat surface and fuck the living hell out of him. Especially when Daryl gave a low, needy moan against his mouth, wiggling in his hold.

"Yeah?" He kissed his throat, his stubble rasping against pale skin. "Is that so nice?"

Daryl tipped his head back, mewling in a blend of delight and despair. His pulse was skyrocketing, he felt hot all over and there was a very insistent throbbing low in his belly that made the soles of his bare feet tickle. 

"What do you want, boy... tell me." Negan licked the vulnerable hollow in his servant's smooth throat with broad tongue.

"Anal-" Daryl blinked his eyes open, feeling a bit dizzy. The Emperor's short leather skirt had moved up and the hard tip of his penis pushed against the softness of his inner thigh. It let his face flush with glowing heat and his heart almost explode. "Analfuck." He wasn't sure if the word was right but he pulled his arms a bit tighter around a muscular neck and hid his feverish face against a strong shoulder, moving his pelvis in hopes for relief. He really wished the Emperor would undress.

"Good job." Negan's voice sounded thick and husky. "In my world, we fuck, right..." He pumped his hips slightly and allowed the pad of his thumb to brush against the tiny puckered hole he craved so much. Just once, but it was enough to have the man in his arms moan and tremble. "But I can't fuck you now... it's almost time for dinner and evening duty." Not that he cared about either of it at the moment.

Daryl huffed a desperate whimper against the heated crook of the Emperor's neck, nudging his tongue against it as he locked his ankles tighter around a strong waist. He didn't want to go to the canteen now. "You're not hungry."

Negan's dark eyebrows knitted and he paused a second, chuckling. "I'm not?" He pulled back, trying to create eye contact and smirked when he met a clouded gaze full of confusion. "You're wrong, cadet." He leaned in, gently biting his servant's cheekbone. "I am fucking hungry and after dinner I need you to serve me in the dressing room because I have a party to attend tonight." He got a faint shake of the head, uncomprehendingly. It made him smile even wider. "Sure, I have." It made him put his pretty servant back down on the ground and push him back against the tree with his hips, letting the boy feel his full strength. "And when I fuck you one day it won't be here up against a fucking tree. It will be in my very own bed where I can undress you and smell every inch of your body." He reached down and worked a hand between soft thighs, massaging in firm, demanding strokes as he stared into blue eyes.  "Where I can spread your pretty legs and lick that gorgeous hole for an hour before I shove my dick in for another two."

Daryl gazed up, his eyes on the Emperor's lips. He saw them move but wasn't sure if he understood everything they told him. His entire body was buzzing, overwhelmed by the long fingers caressing the most private areas of his body, sending strange feelings and urgent needs through his system. He parted his legs a bit more and then clenched them tightly to trap the big hand that made him feel so good. He wanted to perform analservice so bad.

Negan chuckled and pulled away but leaned in to nuzzle the milky skin of a warm neck hidden beneath long strands of fragrant hair. "Say 'As you wish, my Lord'."

There was no ring to kiss but a black leather uniform covering the Emperor's broad shoulder and Daryl pressed his lips to it and closed his eyes, mumbling a whispered reply as tingly sparks swirled all through his body like a swarm of agitated lightning bugs. "My Lord."

\----

There was rice with nuts and dried fruits for dinner served with pieces of crispy chicken. It was delicious and the atmosphere in the canteen was cheerful. The returned soldiers had a million stories to tell and their wives, friends, and relatives were just happy to have them back safely. 

Daryl liked it. The good mood, Jesus kneeling next to him, picking pieces of dried fruit out of his rice dish because they were so tasty. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop glancing at the tall man sitting in his typical relaxed manner at a long rug on the other side of the room. One leg pulled against his chest, a glass of spice tea in hand, laughing about something Simon had said.  

Paul noticed the constant side glances and nudged Daryl's shoulder. "Where have you been all afternoon?" He sniffed the fabric of a slightly rumpled tunic. "Uh... you smell like His Excellency."

"Hm." Daryl pulled a shoulder up, smiling faintly. He really did. Like leather, citrus, and a bit of horse.

Paul smirked as well, popping a chunk of chicken into his mouth. "Shame he can't go to bed early today. I bet he would like that."

"Hm." Daryl nodded, glad that the beautiful servant understood the problem. "For analfuck."

Two men on the other side of the long rug tried to suppress a laugh and lowered their heads. Jesus didn't. "For example." He leaned in close to kiss a prettily adorned ear before he whispered into it. "But try and start with oral service. That'll get him."

Daryl listened and liked the warm glow instantly spreading through his chest at the thought of giving pleasure with his mouth. He really wanted to do that and turned to see the mighty Emperor, wishing he could do it right now, on his knees between wonderful muscular thighs. But he couldn't. Instead, the warm glow got heated up tenfold when a searing bolt shot right into his stomach because this time the Emperor didn't laugh with Simon or talk about war stories with Sergeant Ford. He looked right back at him and their eyes met in the middle of the crowded canteen. Accompanied by a slight smirk.   

\----

In the late evening, the great city hall was brightly illuminated, filled with music and people. Soldiers, generals, common people, servants and politicians. The Emperor and his brother along with four high ranking men were seated on the left side of the dance floor where a group of the Empire's best bellydancers performed for their pleasure.

It was the typical celebration the capital hosted after a successful campaign in honor of the brave troops and their fearless leader. And usually, Negan enjoyed it. Being back home, having a good meal, a glass of strong wine, and some exhilarating entertainment. Tonight, however, he was absentminded and tapped his forefinger on the stem of his wine glass as he stared blankly at the girls on the dancefloor, swaying their bodies gracefully to the music.

Only when the rhythm changed and one of the three male dancers of the group was featured up front he snapped out of his musings and showed a tiny smile. Jesus looked stunning in his low hanging black trousers, the fabric barely thick enough to hide anything. He was barefoot and barechested, his hair tied back, his ears adorned with jingling earrings, while certain spots of his flawless face were accentuated with dabs of gold and streaks of azure. He kept his eyes firmly on his commander during the whole performance, a roguish smirk crooking he corner of his mouth. And as the song came to an end he danced closer to the row of heavy chairs, under the approving bawls of the crowd, snaking his way on the Emperor's lap. He was cheered on by Simon and Seargent Ford and not stopped by Negan himself who just kept his relaxed posture, arms on the armrests, legs slightly spread, a daring grin on his face.

"You look tired, my Lord," Jesus spoke quietly, ghosting his lips briefly over Negan's mouth without real contact. "You should go to bed."  

"Hm." Negan pursed his lips, lifting his glass. "Just had a refill."

Jesus smiled, brushing the black stud in Negan's earlobe with the tip of his nose. "Then I will dance some more for you." He kissed a stubbled cheek and climbed off, dancing backwards back to the others on the dancefloor as a new song started.

Negan watched and lifted his glass once more in honor of his talented lover.

\----

At one in the morning, with the girls either still out at the city hall or long asleep, the Sanctuary's fountain yard was quiet except for the distant babbling of the fountain and the rustling of a bird moving in its big cage. The faint smell of fruit and exotic plants scented the slightly cooler night air and Paul's room on the left side of the yard was empty. His bed untouched, the nest of velvety cushions on the floor not used. But the balcony door stood open, just a crack, letting a low breeze into the room to move the sheer curtains. 

Daryl sat outside. On the ground with his back to the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest, hugging his knees as he cried silently. He didn't even really know why he felt so sad. He had awesome warrior boots now, the troops were safely back home, and his new piercing looked really pretty. Still, tear after tear rolled down his cheeks, no matter how often he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Maybe it was the faint sound of music that could be heard all through town, coming from the celebrations at the city hall. Maybe it was because he hadn't been invited. Maybe it was because he missed the Emperor and the thick floor cushion in the West Wing. Or maybe it was the weird ache throbbing somewhere in his stomach like a big, very confused butterfly that didn't know the right way. He had no idea. But he wished Denise could be there and pet his hair or tell him one of her wonderful good night wishes. He really missed her.

"Pardon for interrupting." A young man, not much older than 19, knocked timidly at the glass door, instantly making a humble curtsey as he stepped out on the balcony in the half dark. "His Imperial Highness sends you this with his kindest regards." He didn't look up as he handed a porcelain plate over. There was a small cake on it, in the shape of a dome with red and white icing. It looked really pretty and a note was tucked underneath.

Daryl sniffed his nose and wiped his eyes, not sure where the servant suddenly came from in the middle of the night. He took the plate, not saying anything.

"Nazr." The young man explained and again dropped a curtsey before he left as soundless and soft-footed as possible. 

Daryl looked after him, heard the door to Paul's room being shut and then stared at the small cake he had received. From the Emperor. He held it close to his nose to smell it, poked his tongue against the sticky icing and put the delicate porcelain carefully on the ground next to his feet. The note that came with the food was a bit stained but he was still able to read the message, written in elegant black letters.

**_You see the very bright star in the south? Its name is Peacock. It is yours if you go to bed now._ **

**_See you in the morning, cadet._ **

**_-Negan_ **

He needed a long time to read all the words and even longer to find the very bright star in the southern night sky. But once he had found it he couldn't take his eyes off. It was really there, beautiful and radiant, like a magical object or one of the awesome firework-rockets for the fallen. He didn't know anything about stars or why this one was named Peacock. But he knew that it was his now, a real gift from the Emperor, even better and more precious than the golden jewelry for his navel.

\----

At 1:54 in the morning, the Sanctuary's newest servant lay in his bed made of pillows and velvety cushions, all of them moved closer to the balcony doors where one could see the nightly sky. There wasn't a crumb of cake left on the pretty little porcelain plate but a bit of red icing stuck to Daryl's slightly parted lips. He held the Emperor's good night wish safely in his left hand while the fingers of his right hand rested protectively on the jewelry attached to his belly.

\----

"Hey, you coming?" Siddiq stepped out on the city hall's spacious roof garden. "Trisha is looking for you."

"Yeah." Negan didn't turn around. He stood at the very front, arms propped on the railing as he gazed into the night. "A minute."

"Alright." Siddiq nodded, biting back the 'Are you ok?' he wanted to ask. He could tell his brother wanted to be alone and wasn't in the mood to talk.

The faint click of the terrace doors being shut sounded good and made Negan briefly close his eyes and inhale the fresh night air... before he looked up into the black sky again, seeing this one star between a million others. A bit brighter, a bit more beautiful. Special somehow compared to the others.    
  
  
  
 


	16. Green is the color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a wonderful Sunday, lovely reader!puppies <3

 

Morning duty after the big welcome party at the city hall wasn't to Daryl's liking. The Emperor's private chambers in the West Wing smelled like women and pieces of ugly lingerie lay scattered on the ground, from the big desk in the study all the way into the bedroom. And the wonderful heavy wooden bed was occupied by two of the giggling harem girls. Trisha and Amber. One of them was stark naked, the other clad in a sheer dressing gown. Daryl wrinkled his nose when he saw a pair of thick breasts through the thin, light blue fabric. No wonder the whole room stank like naked women and bedroom service.

"Sst." Negan walked by, dressed in a long, wide flowing tunic. Black with golden details, deeply cut in the front, exposing dark chest hair and a plain, rather thin gold necklace. "Serve me in the bathroom." He was hungover and not in the best mood since he had woken up next to two women draped over his naked body and cum stained sheets. And the look on his chamberlain's face really pissed him off. Confused and reproachful. Hurt and somehow disgusted. "Chop, chop, boy. Stop fucking gawking." He snapped his fingers harshly and led the way, pulling the tunic over his head on the way just to drop it carelessly somewhere near the sink. "Shut the door. Run me a bath." A hot one, with a whole bottle of something strong scented. Sandalwood, pine, cedar, bergamot. Or a combination of it all. Anything that would get that sweet, flowery smell off him, hopefully along with the vague memories of last night. Too much wine, red lips wrapped around his dick, and his tongue on a wet pussy. He pulled a heavy golden bangle off his wrist and flung it on the vanity in front of the mirror. Where the fuck had Jesus been anyway.  

The sound of the running water and the smell of lemon and something woodsy scenting the air made him feel 2% better and he turned around, pinching his nose as he watched his servant fumbling nervously with some towels and a sponge. 

"Thanks." He touched silky hair for just a brief moment before he stepped into the tub, dunking his long body into the water, trying to relax. He put his arms left and right on the edge, as well as one foot at the bottom end, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. 

He opened them again almost six minutes later to a wet, soapy sponge cautiously run over his chest.

"Did you like the cake?" 

Daryl glanced up, surprised by the almost gentle tone of voice ending the silence. He licked his lips, "Yes." and shyly bent down to kiss the wet fingers and teal gem resting on the brim of the tub. He mumbled a very quiet "Thank you" but the 'My Lord' he meant to add just wouldn't come out. Not even when a knuckle lifted off the enameled cast iron and traced the curve of his bottom lip. But it made him peek up and his stomach clench in a weird way when he saw the very faint smile tipping up the left corner of Negan's mouth.

\----

At 7:32 AM the almost naked harem girls had finally left, along with their sovereign who went straight to the barrack yards.

Daryl wasn't allowed to join the morning drill. For one, he was told that his body needed the chance to recover after such a hard training, and he was also supposed to take care of the Emperor's private rooms and personal belongings. All the gear that had been used on the last military mission needed to be cleaned. Boots, clothing, armor. Not the weapons. Negan wanted to do that himself. 

But they looked really cool. There was a machete, several swords in different sizes, a wooden bat wrapped in barbwire that was really dirty, and a couple of big knives. On one of them was still a bit blood. 

Daryl picked it up for a closer look. It was very heavy, with a leather-clad handle and a really long blade. He touched the edge with one finger, surprised how sharp it was. If he had such a terrific knife he could wear it on a belt around his waist and stab everyone coming near the Emperor. He would drive the blade into their stomachs or slit their throats if they would try to harm Negan. They would be scared of him and run away.

He wrapped his fingers tightly around the leather handle and stabbed the air, pretending to ward off a blow from an invisible attacker. Once, twice, and then a bit higher. He would slay them all.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Negan entered the room, pushing his damp hair back with one fluid sweep of his right hand after a three mile run on an unusually hot morning. "I asked you to clean my gear and not to touch my fucking weapons."     

Daryl flinched and took the knife down, hiding it behind his back.

"Right?" Negan stepped closer, looking his chamberlain straight in the eye as he reached around him and took the weapon out of his hands. "It's not a fucking toy."

"Hm." Daryl knew that and he was angry for a second that he was scolded like a child instead of being treated like a soldier, but then he forgot about it because the Emperor stood so close and the tiny beads of perspiration on his face and neck looked really nice. He huffed a breath, glancing up through silky bangs and the filigree gold headpiece he wore. "'can run you a bath." He pointed a vague finger in the direction of the bathroom. He could also dry the Emperor off and help him apply kohl or the wonderfully scented beard oil.

It brought a smirk to Negan's lips. "You wanna wash me?" He studied his young servant from closest distance, taking his time. "Do I stink?" The scandalized expression the pretty face adopted made him chuckle and he copied the shake of the head he received. "No? Do I smell good?" 

"Yes." Daryl nodded and blinked his lashes as he lifted one shoulder, feeling a bit embarrassed. His eyes darted to a thick drop of sweat rolling from short, dark hair down a strong, lightly tanned neck. 

"Hh." Negan watched the tip of a pink tongue peeking out for a brief moment and cocked his head to the left, raising his right arm daringly. "Are you sure?" 

The short sleeve of the Emperor's black t-shirt revealed half of a damp armpit and a patch of dark hair and Daryl moved closer for a shy sniff. It didn't smell bad at all and he wanted to place a kiss on it like he always did on the back of Negan's hand. But he didn't. There was a low voice, deep and right next to his ear, as the arm was slowly lowered again. 

"Good boy." 

Long fingers curled loosely around the back of his neck and rough stubble grazed the side of his face, his nose almost touching the warm fabric of the Emperor's shirt. He closed his eyes, holding his breath.

"Thank you." Negan inhaled his chamberlain's clean scent but suppressed the urge to kiss that milky skin or beautifully adorned ear, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop. "But I will wash myself." He closed his eyes a brief moment, softly squeezing the warm neck he was holding, "Be good and wait in the study for me. I would like a glass of tea and some almonds." before he pulled back, touched their foreheads together for just a second, and left for the bathroom, carelessly throwing the knife on his bed as he passed it. 

\----

The late morning was a bit boring. Negan had washed and taken his place at the big desk in his private study, immediately starting with his work. Without a word or glance at his servant. Every now and then he sipped the tea he was offered or popped an almond into his mouth but never put his golden pen down, not even when Daryl shifted on his feet after 73 minutes because his feet started to hurt and his arms got heavy from holding the pretty silver tray.

When long fingers reached for another almond, Daryl flicked his head, making the delicate chain jingle that adorned his forehead today. "'s it from the tree." The question had been on the tip of his tongue for almost an hour and now that it finally came out he regretted it, because his voice sounded so hoarse and strange in the quiet room.

But Negan didn't seem to mind. "From the almond trees where I took you to make out?" He wrote a last sentence, the tip of his fountain pen flowing smoothly over the luxurious paper, creating even words in black ink. "Yes." He ended with a period, tucked the pen between middle and forefinger and put the finished document to the side before he took a new one that he had to work through. "They are the best. Try one."  

It was such a nice offer and Daryl really wanted to eat one of the kissingtree almonds because they looked so good. But he had both hands on the tray and didn't know how to take one. He bent down a bit, opening his mouth and then exhaled in slight annoyance, lifted a knee and the tray but it didn't work either, not even when he angled his head to the right.

"Sst." Negan tapped a free spot on his desk with two fingers. "Put it down. Take a break." He meant for his servant to relax a while on his place on the floor cushion at the other end of the room, but then didn't complain or comment when the young man placed the silver tray carefully next to the elaborately decorated ink jar and sunk down on the ground right beside his chair, shyly reaching up for an almond. "You like it?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded and shifted on his ankles. It was such a relief to finally kneel and be spoken to.

"Good. They are very nutritious. Great after work or training." Negan signed an application he approved of while taking three more almonds from the tray to hold them blindly out for Daryl. And as he wondered why they weren't taken, he felt soft lips and something slightly wet at the hollow of his palm. He glanced up just to see his chamberlain eating the offered snack right from his hand. It made him pause and softened his features. Maybe it was time for a little break. He squeezed Daryl's smooth chin affectionately and leaned back in his heavy chair, not even thinking about wiping the wet spot of spit into his pants. "So, what did you do with my knife? I thought you're an archer."   

Daryl stopped chewing, fumbling with his left earring. "Just practicin'." 

"Hm." Negan grabbed an almond and put one foot up to the edge of his seat to sit more comfortable. "It's wise to carry a melee weapon. Rhee could train you on the broadsword." 

The always smiling soldier was nice but Daryl rather wanted to be trained by Negan and he really wanted one of the awesome knives. "You can." He tapped the Emperor's arm with a shy finger.

Negan pursed his lips, examining his servant a moment. "I hold a training session for the new infantrymen tomorrow on the yard. 3 PM."

Daryl straightened his back, his interest aroused. "'s it with boots?" He hoped it was.  

"It is." Negan shoved an almond between his servant's lips. "Did you clean them?" He got a very enthusiastic nod and took his foot back down with a sigh. "Very good. Then go now and finish my bedroom. New sheets and pillowcases." He sipped his tea and grabbed another pile of documents. "If you're doing a nice job, you may join the afternoon training tomorrow."

\----

By noon, most of the paperwork was done and Negan groaned and stretched his stiff body before he got up and went into his bedroom. He had almost forgotten that he had sent his servant there to make his bed. And the second he saw him, he wished he had given him a different chore. "Done?" It was an unnecessary question in distant tone and he avoided direct eye contact, busying himself with a new bandage he found on his vanity. 

"Yes." Daryl had changed the sheets and all pillowcases, straightened the covers, and put all the girly lingerie he had found in a neat little pile on top of it. He didn't turn around to face the Emperor, not really in the mood to see his beautiful face.

"Good." Negan had taken off his old bandage and wrapped the fresh one a bit too tightly around his wrist. For some reason he was annoyed that his chamberlain didn't leave. He was done after all and it was time for lunch. "Go to the canteen then." He knew his voice sounded cold and kind of harsh and it annoyed him even more.

Daryl was supposed to say, "Yes, my Lord" but he didn't. Instead he turned around and walked to the door, quietly. And when he stopped and turned around, he was glad that the Emperor looked at his own reflection in the vanity mirror and not at him. "'s it analfuck?" It was an inappropriate question. He knew that but he was kind of proud that he had dared to ask anyway, even if his words sounded awfully small and pathetic.

Negan's hand stilled on his wrist. "Yes." He forced himself to take the coldness out of his voice. "Something like that."

The blunt answer hurt Daryl's guts and he didn't even know why. He knew what the harem girls were there for because they talked about it all the time. And he had seen girls serving the Governor in bed. He knew what they did and offered. What Mister Blake had done with them. Probably Negan did the same with Trisha and the others. But the thought was very unpleasant all of sudden. It made him sad and angry. So bad that he wanted to skip lunch and rather leave. The fountain yard, the Sanctuary, and the whole town. 

His feet wouldn't move though. He turned around but just faced the doorframe, his nose resting on the polished wood it was made of. He could smell it and hear his own breath hitting the coated surface. It grew damp. And when he heard the heavy steps of wonderful warrior boots behind him he squeezed his eyes shut and wished he had the big knife with the leather handle. 

"Turn around."

He didn't follow the order and wasn't asked a second time. But he spoke himself, his lips brushing the doorframe, his voice just a strange whisper. "Are they goin' to the tree with you?" Pictures of green meadows and full trees popped into his head, a black horse and a man, mighty and beautiful like a God,  touching, holding and kissing him as if he was really nice and special. More than a servant from the harem or a bedroom slave from Alexandria.

Goosebumps broke out along his spine when gentle fingers raked through the long strands at the back of his head. Three times before a tall body covered his entire backside, flush. Chest to back. Broad and solid. Surrounding him with leather, lime, and musky soap.  

"No." Negan lowered his chin onto Daryl's shoulder, nuzzling the comfort of a smooth cheek and silky hair. "No almonds, no stars, no pretty belly rings." He inhaled the powdery scent of warm skin and closed his eyes as he slid a hand from a bare waist onto an exposed belly and the jewelry attached to its navel. He toyed with it for a moment, "It's different with you." then turned his head to kiss the lobe of an adorned ear when the young man started to relax in his arms and leaned into him. "But it can't be more than different. We are not a couple." He kissed again, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. "No boyfriends. I won't fucking marry you. I have a much bigger responsibility. For my people and the whole Empire." He made a step back and forced Daryl to turn around, tipping his chin up for eye contact. "Love and attachment make you weak." And everything he saw in innocent blue eyes made him say the next words with extra emphasis because it had never been more true in his life. "It makes you fucking vulnerable. it gets you killed." He paused a moment, keeping his eyes open as he touched their foreheads together. "I care about my people, all of them. But I don't do love... because they need me as strong as possible." He nudged Daryl's nose with his own. "Right? I like you, though... I like having you around. I like spending time with you." He closed the small distance to stand flush again, chest to chest this time, making their crotches touch as he caressed the man's bare sides with his hands, slowly stroking up and down underneath the thin tunic. He created goosebumps and loved the feel underneath his fingertips. "I like kissing you." He brushed his mouth over slightly parted lips, "I would love to fuck you. Over there in my bed. Show you what it's like when two men are together because they really fucking want to." then dipped his tongue between them, just for a brief taste. "But I won't do it unless you agree. Unless you want it and understand what I just told you." He chuckled low in his throat when he got a nod almost instantly. "Hm. That's not how it works, boy." He kissed again, pressing a knee between his chamberlain's legs. "Say, I think about it, my Lord."

Blood pumped through Daryl's ears. He tried to bring himself closer by pushing his hips against a muscular thigh. "M' Lord." He mumbled his hoarse reply, curving his neck into a graceful arch to give better access when he felt lips and tongue roaming his throat. One of his hands was taken and brought between their bodies to cup a significant hardness. He could feel it throb through the light fabric of black training pants and formed his palm around it, receiving a low growl of appreciation.

"That's right, cadet. That's how much I fucking want you." Negan pulled away and tipped Daryl's chin up again, looking him in the eyes. "But only on my terms. Think about it." He tucked a strand of hair behind a glowing ear and stepped back with the ghost of a smirk on his lips and a whispered order in friendly tone. "Go to the canteen. I see you there."

\----

The sun was already down when a young man made his way through the Sanctuary's endless maze of rooms, stairs, and hallways back to the fountain yard after two hours of intense dance training. The small coins and beads of his richly decorated hip belt jingled faintly with every step, along with the rest of jewelry he wore. He was exhausted and sweaty but also very pleased with himself because he had finally mastered the pelvic drop and hip snap the way he wanted to and the new performance for the next big show started to take shape. They would rock it.

One of the parrots in the big golden cage cawed a happy 'Jesus!' as he walked by and he rippled a fingertip along the thin bars, smiling softly. The brass lanterns in his room were on, giving off a warm orange glow, and it smelled like jasmine and rose. "Hey Mikey, are you already done with your evening duty?" He was surprised to see the Sanctuary's newest chamberlain in bed at such an early hour, wearing his simple white night clothing. No jewelry, no eye makeup, just two dark blue beads in his hair and a sad expression on his face. "Are you alright? Did the bitches bother you again?"

Daryl glanced up and shook his head. He was glad that Paul was back and he didn't mind at all that he still called him Mikey. It was nice somehow. Like a secret name that was so much cooler than Daryl.

"Is His Majesty busy?" Paul took his fitted belt off and dropped it near a pot plant. "Did he sent you off?" 

Daryl shrugged. He wanted to tell the beautiful servant about the almond trees, the ugly giggling girls, and that the Emperor didn't want to be his boyfriend. But just thinking about it all made his chin tremble slightly and his eyes blur up with tears. So he dropped his head into the pile of velvety cushions his bed was made of and took a sound breath.

Jesus furrowed his brows and came closer, squatting down. "So bad, hu?" He stroked some hair out of Daryl's face. "Wait here, okay? I am right back." He caressed the man's cheek with the side of his thumb and got up to leave the room. 

When he came back 17 minutes later, he was freshly washed, wore nothing but his wide flowing tunic for the night and ignored his own comfy bed in favor of the nest of cushions and pillows on the floor. He made a big step, lay down, and snuggled up to Daryl's backside, pulling him close, back to chest. "Tell me what happened. Are you homesick?"

Daryl shook his head, loving the warm, familiar body behind him. He wasn't homesick, he just missed Denise but not Alexandria or the women's quarters. 

Jesus nuzzled his face into silky strands of hair, closing his eyes. "Was service bad today? Did you drop something and he got loud?" He kissed the nape of a warm neck. "Don't worry about it, he's just a little stressed, you know. He really likes you."

Daryl gazed into the half-dark room, playing with Paul's fingers in front of his chest. "Didn' drop anythin'." He spoke quietly, glad that he had found the courage. "The girls were there." 

"In his room?" Paul opened his eyes again.

"Hm. In bed." Naked, making everything stink like women.

"Yeah, I figured. Trisha was like a bitch in heat last night. Fawned on him for hours with her panties soaked and her tits hanging out of that hideous dress she bought at the bazaar in Valeska."

Daryl turned his head, glad that Paul said something unfriendly about Patricia. "They did analfuck." And probably kissing. It hurt him to think about it even if it had been without almonds.

"No." Jesus propped his head up on his elbow. "Pussyfuck maybe. They wouldn't condescend to take it up the ass."

"Vagina?" Daryl put a hand between his legs, not sure what pussyfuck meant. But he had seen women from Alexandria perform vagina service for Mister Blake.

"Yes. He does it sometimes but it means nothing."

Daryl reached up to touch Paul's beard. It was so pretty. "He said I can't be his bride."

A sparkle full of adoration glimmered through Paul's eyes. "You mean his groom." He brushed a strand of hair behind Daryl's ear. "He had the talk with you? About love and attachment?"

"Yes." In the doorframe with neck-kisses.

"It means he likes you a lot." Jesus smiled. "He wants to control everything, you know. Even his feelings. But he can't. He will realize it sooner or later."

Daryl listened, not sure why Jesus looked so happy.

"Did he kiss you?"

"Hm." He nodded, noticing his chest grow warm and his earlobes prickle. 

"Feels really good, right?" Jesus nudged Daryl's upper arm. "And he tastes so delicious!" He groaned, letting his head fall to hide his face in one of the soft velvet cushions. "And his hands, Lord help me... tell him to stick a finger up your butt and you'll hear the angels sing." He whimpered once at the memory of the last intercourse with his commander, then turned his head and wiped some long strands of hair out of his face, wagging a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You want him to fuck you, right?" He got a shy nod and rolled over to lie on his side again, wrapping an arm around the other man's waist. "He will. You'll see."

Daryl moved closer, almost making their noses touch. "He said I have to think about it."

"About what?" Jesus wiggled a knee between Daryl's legs and pulled him an inch closer.

"Analfuck." Daryl wasn't entirely sure if he got it right. "Without weddin'."

"Hm." Jesus kissed a warm cheek and closed his eyes, softening his voice. "Marriage is overrated anyway. But you should fuck every day of the week." He yawned, digging his nose in the crook of Daryl's neck. "And twice on Sunday." He felt himself drift off to slumberland. "And on seasonal holidays you should invite me to watch."

The fountain yard fell quiet, except for the steady babbling of the fountain water and Paul's even breathing. Daryl couldn't sleep, though. His mind was racing with confusing thoughts and wild images. He had seen some weddings in Alexandria and one at the Kingdom. They were really not that special. Just the food and how the bridal couple kissed and held hands. But here in the wonderful new world of the Empire they had super tasty food every day and he had been kissed by Negan several times already. Maybe it was okay to not be a couple or boyfriends. As long as he could be a soldier and ride with the Emperor and Lucille to the almond trees again. Because he was different and the ugly harem girls wouldn't come there. 

He closed his eyes and brought a hand down his body to find the pretty golden jewelry attached to his belly button. He caressed it, tracing its shape with his fingertips. Then took them up to his mouth to kiss his own knuckles, mumbling a soundless 'G'night, my Lord', hoping the Emperor was peacefully asleep after such a strenuous day of work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week :)


	17. Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this awfully long chapter. Next part in a few hours.

 

 

Daryl looked pretty for his morning duty in the West Wing. He wore a new tunic in dark blue with a purple belt to his low hanging pants and Jesus had framed his eyes in a blend of the same colors, after braiding two delicate gold chains in his hair. It was all so nice that he had admired himself for almost four minutes in one of the fountain yard's big mirrors and then had strutted through the palace with his head held high like one of the beautiful Peacock-birds, hoping that everyone would see him.

Unfortunately, the Emperor wasn't in his bedroom when Daryl had arrived, ready for service. The friendly guard in front of the door informed him that His Majesty had gotten up very early for an appointment in the south part of town and Siddiq would do the morning drill with the soldiers today.

Daryl had been sad and disappointed for three hours while he cleaned the study and bedroom, made the bed, polished some of the Emperor's jewelry, all his boots, and refilled the bottles in the bathroom with aromatic oils and scented bath salts. He put some fresh pecans, green raisins, and roasted watermelon seeds in small silver bowls and placed them on the big desk and next to the bed on the nightstand because maybe Negan wanted a snack once he was back. Then he didn't know what else to do anymore and wanted to leave, but turned around in the doorframe in the last second, feeling his stomach flutter as he got one almond out of a jar and put it right on the Emperor's pillow. It made his heart stumble in excitement and his cheeks were glowing in a faint red shade even when he was long back at the fountain yard.

For lunch, Daryl sat with Jesus and a couple of other servants at one of the long rugs in the canteen, eating crispy rice and cooked saffron chicken from his pretty silver tray. He tried to listen to the story one of the servants told about a new hairdresser who had opened next to the city hall, but it was hard to concentrate because he kept craning his neck to see the entry and every new person arriving, desperately waiting for one specific lunch guest. 

After 27 minutes a stout man stepped through the door, announcing in booming voice that his boss was about to enter. "Ladies and Gentlemen! His Imperial Highness!"

The whole room fell silent and everyone moved into a kneeling posture and lowered their head. Daryl, too. But he kept glancing up through his long bangs, his belly tingling when long legs and awesome warrior boots came closer. He couldn't help but smile and felt his ears grow hot as gentle fingertips brushed the top of his head. Just for half a second, though. And when everybody started to eat and talk again, moving in a more comfortable position to continue lunch, he realized that the Emperor sat somewhere far away at a different rug, with a group of soldiers, not even looking in his direction.

It made his stomach feel funny and the corners of his mouth drop. Jesus had to stroke his hair for a minute but it didn't help enough to feel better and one of the other servants ate the remains of his rice and chicken because he wasn't hungry anymore.

Then, after the canteen, he had an appointment at Doctor Stookey's house for a testosterone shot. And normally he wouldn't have cried anymore because he was used to the pain by now. But today he felt really miserable and decided to hide at the stables for an hour, not wanting to see anyone.

As he went back to the palace in the early afternoon, he met Enid and little Navid on the way. Both smiled at him and it lightened his mood a bit. The baby wore a tiny gold bangle around its chubby wrist and suckled on a piece of apple that he held out for Daryl in a generous offer to take a bite as well. Daryl didn't accept it, because the apple was really slobbery and already a little brown, but he gave the boy a smile in return, thinking that he looked a lot like the Emperor.  

Jesus wasn't at the fountain yard but Daryl found him in one of the large rooms that were used for dance training. There wasn't any music playing and the beautiful servant sat cross-legged on the ground, his long hair a bit sweaty and tucked behind his ears, his face flushed.

"Oh hey, Mikey!" He showed a radiant smile as he looked up. "How's your leg? Should I get you something cold?" 

Daryl shook his head as he lowered down to sit on the floor as well. It didn't really hurt anymore, but he rubbed his thigh anyway.

"What's that?" Paul pulled a piece of straw out of Daryl's slightly ruffled hair. "Have you been at the stables?"

"Hm."

Paul knew that sad expression. "Hiding?"

Daryl shrugged and dropped his gaze.

"He keeps his distance, hu." Paul tickled the other man's knee. "You miss him?"

Daryl nodded. He did. And he flicked his head to get some hair out of his eyes as he looked up at Paul. "Why does he hate service."

"Sexual service you mean? He doesn't hate it, he just hates when somebody is forced to serve and give pleasure. It is considered a crime here, you know." Paul sniffed his nose, then wiggled it because it tickled. "It makes people sad when they are pressured into sex."

"Hm." Daryl nodded and lowered his head again, feeling embarrassed somehow.

"Did you like serving your leader in your home town?"

It was a difficult question. Daryl had never really thought about it. He liked being good and to provide service that others enjoyed. Of course he rather wanted to be a terrific soldier, but he had been a bedroom servant as long as he could think. That was him. His destiny. 

"What was he like? Did you kiss him? Is he handsome?"

Daryl huffed a small laugh. "No." Of course he didn't kiss the Governor. That wasn't part of the service. And he really wasn't handsome. Not like the Emperor. He didn't wash as much, either and didn't use all the fantastic oils and soaps the palace had. Or kohl and jewelry. 

"He's not as hot as His Majesty, right?" Jesus nudged Daryl's arm, wagging a brow. "I mean, of course he isn't. Our commander in Chief is a fucking stud."

"Hm." A tiny smile crooked the left corner of Daryl's mouth. Negan was really very beautiful and in every way so much better than Mister Blake.

"You wanna serve him?"

Daryl nodded. He really wanted that. Give pleasure with his mouth or offer his butt. During morning duty to make the Emperor happy for the day, or for evening duty after a long hard day, to help him relax.

Paul rested his head on Daryl's shoulder. "Then offer it. He will love it as long as he knows that you do it of your own free will and not because you feel that you have to." He entwined their fingers and turned to kiss a smooth jaw, whispering in his best bedroom voice. "He's a sucker for true subservience." He kissed again, brushing his nose along warm skin. "Coming from heartfelt respect and devotion... not fear and coercion. And he really adores you. I know it."

Daryl wrapped his hand tightly around the beautiful servant's slender fingers, enjoying the soft caresses and all the nice words whispered close to his ear. He really liked the Sanctuary.

\----

There was a giggle going through the rows of young infantrymen waiting in the barrack yards for their lesson to begin because one of them wasn't dressed as the rest. A guy sitting nervously somewhere on the left, obviously thought it was appropriate to appear with blue-purplish eye makeup, tons of jewelry, and wide flowing pants to his perfectly polished combat boots.

"WHAT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY?" The whole group flinched and grew silent in a heartbeat when a tall man with very loud vocal organ stepped in front of them and immediately went nose to nose with one soldier who seemed especially amused by cadet Dixon's outfit. "ENLIGHTEN ME, PRIVATE STUMP! IS IT YOUR FUCKING BIG NOSE YOU'RE LAUGHING AT OR YOUR HILARIOUS LAST NAME!" He bellowed right in the guy's face, effectively draining it from all its formerly rosy color. 

"N-no, Sir." The young man blinked his eyelids rapidly and his voice came off a bit weak.

"THEN WHAT IS IT YOU FIND SO AMUSING, STUMP!" Negan had both arms behind his back as he leaned a kilometer into his soldier's private space to make him as uncomfortable as possible. "I ASSUME IT CAN'T BE YOUR COMRADE'S FUCKING AWESOME OUTFIT THAT HE WEARS DURING IMPERIAL SERVICE FOR YOUR COMMANDER!" He didn't take his piercing stare off his victim but pointed an accusing finger at his chamberlain a few seats to the left.  

Private Stump's eyes flickered anxiously. "No, Sir!"

"Hh!" Negan wasn't convinced but made half a step back, standing tall. "So, you like his exceptionally cool attire, Stump?" He tipped his head to the right, arching his brows as he waited for a reply.

"Uhm..." The young soldier's face changed colors again, from ghostly white to bright red. "Yes, Sir?"

"Good." Negan pursed his lips, nodding. "Tell him then." He gestured at Daryl.

Private Stump shifted on his butt, clearing his throat. Twice. Before he turned uneasily to face the new cadet. "I like your outfit." He could hear the suppressed laughter from at least ten guys around him and knew he would have to avoid the locker room for the next three months.

"Good to know, Private!" Negan put both hands behind his back again, widening his stance and squaring his shoulders in front of his students. "You should fucking like it! It's the traditional garb of our beautiful nation! And I expect you to show respect to everyone who proudly wears it!" 

The whole group answered with a firm 'YES, SIR!', except for the young man with the spit shined boots and wide flowing pants on the left. He tucked a strand of silky hair behind his ear and straightened his back a bit more to show off his wonderful peacock belly piercing as he stared at the mighty Emperor with big eyes full of adoration.

\----

Daryl liked the close combat lesson. It was very instructive and the Emperor looked so powerful and in charge as he strode in front of his students, explaining different melee weapons and the situations they were used for. He spoke with firm voice, stood tall and proud, and treated every question coming with equal seriousness.

Daryl watched attentively when private Sanders got up, supposed to demonstrate the correct use of a tactical knife in self-defense.

Negan interfered briefly to guide the man's arm, then spoke to his class. "Combat knives are designed for tactical situations, Gentlemen." He parried a weak move and disarmed private Sanders in the matter of a second, tackling the surprised man to the ground with just a quick move of his elbow and the help of his left leg. "Having one of those can be the difference between life and death in emergency situations!" He held the knife up with two fingers and his soldier down with the heel of his boot. "It's equipped with a double row of serrations on both sides of the blade. Cuts through fibrous material like butter!" He turned it around to show the handle. "It has also a glass breaker at the back. Very convenient in an emergency." He took it down and slid it into the sheath attached to his belt, taking his boot off the soldier on the ground to release him. "There's nothing better to carry in hostile territory."

Daryl listened, in awe of the heavy, black knife, but somehow didn't agree with the Emperor. He knew what kind of weapons the insurgent communities had. And they were much better than knives. More dangerous and lethal. He imagined the mighty Emperor with a knife on the battlefield, facing Mister Blake or lieutenant Grimes with rifles. It worried him and he raised his hand as the other soldiers had done it when they had a question. 

Negan gestured for private Sanders to go back to the group and gave Daryl a nod, hiding his surprise that the young man had a question and the courage to ask. "What is it, cadet."

"You could use guns." The moment the quiet suggestion had left Daryl's mouth an indignant murmur went through the rows of men and he looked around unsettled before he lowered his head, not sure what he had done wrong.

"Sst." Negan silenced the little outrage with a brief hand signal and gave his attention to his embarrassed chamberlain. "What's the benefit of using guns. Do you know?" 

"Hm." Daryl's eyes darted insecurely to a man sitting to his right who mumbled 'infamy' in hostile tone.

"Tell us. Why is it a good idea to use guns instead of close combat weapons."

The Emperor's calm, encouraging voice made Daryl look up. "Take cover 'n shoot many people." He held his fingers up in imitation of a handgun. He had watched the Alexandrian soldiers practice for battle. They were trained to hide behind walls, trees or in tall grass, be very quiet and then shoot the enemy. It was a very clever tactic.

Negan raised his hand again when the protest grew louder and changed into a shower of insults towards Daryl. He waited for silence before he continued. "That's very true. Guns make it fucking easy to kill people. They are very easy to use, too. A gun gives you the opportunity to fight from great distance, take as many lives as possible and probably get back home to your family in one piece. " 

"Hm." Daryl nodded, glad that the Emperor understood what he meant.

"But the Empire doesn't fight to take life. We fight to save it." He arched his brows at his servant, pausing a moment. "In our times, people are a resource. We need to repopulate the world. Create life and not fucking destroy it. Where is the use of going out there and kill the rest of humans left? Our goal is to reunite and work together, make the world better and bigger. We don't wanna repeat earlier mistakes." He signaled for one of his soldiers. "Brown. Bring me the bat." A wooden bat wrapped in barbwire was given to him.

Daryl recognized it. He had seen it before in the Emperor's private chambers, but now it was clean.

Negan held it up. "You've seen it yesterday. What do you think I've done with it." He got an uneasy half shrug with one shoulder and a meek reply.

"'killed."

He nodded. "I did kill with it. One. I killed one guy, put him on his knees and beat him to death in the most brutal fucking way possible for everybody else to see." He let the information sink in, not at all affected by Daryl's shocked expression. "I did it to save the others. People are stupid, lying, greedy, selfish assholes. They don't want to work together and fight for the same goal. Do their part for the greater good. Everybody wants to achieve affluence, have more than everyone else. Power over the weak. It's in our fucking nature." He showed a tiny smile towards his chamberlain. "That's why we need someone in charge to keep them in line and show the right way. Make sure they do their part. Make them understand what unity means and what the world is about. That saving life and working together as one is the only fucking way." He put the bat over his shoulder, slowly walking up to his servant. "So yes, we do kill. But not as much as possible, by pulling the trigger of an automatic weapon, hiding behind a god damn bush. We kill when there's no other way, face to face. The right person, at the right time." He handed his weapon over, making Daryl hold it. "And we do not kill the easy, cowardly way. If you plan to take a life, boy... you better be man enough to do it with your own fucking hands and look your victim in the eye." 

\----

Daryl had been supposed to go to the auditorium after the weapon training in the yard, but he didn't. He didn't feel like it. The Emperor's words still tumbled through his head, along with disturbing pictures of blood, bullets and dead people. He wasn't so sure whether he wanted to be a soldier anymore.

"There you are." Negan walked up to the hip-high brick wall his servant was sitting on, still clutching the bat. "Are you planning to keep her?" The young man looked up in surprise, seeming anxious and upset somehow. He shook his head, then flicked it to get some hair out of his eye.

Negan nudged the bat with the tip of his boot. "No? You don't like her?"

"Was it skin?" The silver metal spikes of the barbwire were clean now, but yesterday Daryl had seen dark red dirt on it. The thought made his stomach flip.

"Skin, blood, brain matter." Negan took the bat and sat down next to his young chamberlain, noticing the relieved feeling spreading through his tired legs. "Death is never pretty, cadet."

Daryl glanced to the right, seeing a bare, muscular arm and a leather-clad shoulder. He really liked the Emperor's wonderful armor. "Was it a bad guy?"

"Not worse than the rest." Negan returned the look, his face tired but free of any emotion. "He was the biggest threat out of their group." He liked the way blue eyes blinked up at him, squinting a bit against the bright afternoon sun. 

"Are you sad?"

Under other circumstances, the question would have rubbed him the wrong way. Sadness had no place on the battlefield. It made weak and opened the door for mistakes. But for some reason, he felt oddly comforted by the situation and the humble way it was asked. So he shook his head. Just once, holding silent eye contact. And added a spoken reply as he broke it to gaze into the open, towards the military training ground and the wide meadows behind. "I am angry that they didn't cooperate when they had the chance."   

"Hm." Daryl was angry about that, too. And sad.

Negan stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles. "You should become a chicken farmer." He nodded at the large brood of fenced-in hens behind one of the greenhouses. "Gary is looking for new people. It's a good job." 

Daryl liked the chickens. They tasted good and looked funny. But he didn't want to be a farmer. "No." He wanted to help the Emperor because leading the Empire was a very hard job. "'m helpin' you." As a chamberlain in the West Wing and as a soldier on the battlefield. With a knife and a crossbow, as courageous as he could possibly be for his new leader and the glory of the new world.

Negan pursed his lips, nodding. A faint smile spread from his lips up to his eyes, softening his features. "Will you keep my tent warm in camp?"

"Hm." Daryl turned to look at the Emperor, loving the idea. "Yes."

"Good to know." Negan chuckled, patting his chamberlain's thigh before he got up with a groan. "Until then serve me some tea in the study. I've got work to do."  

\----

**_'I consent to that and I accept the honors given to me by your people. I agree to the erection of a statue of myself and my family. But I deprecate the appointment of a high priest at the opening ceremony of your new Congress building. I am not religious and I don't wish to be offensive to my contemporaries by-'_ **

Negan took his pen down and glanced up from his letter for the fifth time in ten minutes, distracted by the two young men sitting on the big floor cushion at the other end of the room. They were supposed to study for the upcoming presentation about food and eating habits in the new world. But Daryl had kept toying with Paul's new piercing, in awe that it was attached to his nipple instead of his belly button. He poked it through the sheer fabric of the tunic at every chance he got and after the third time Paul had been nice enough to lift his top to encourage more fondling. In response Daryl had stuck out his belly to show off his piercing and opened his legs a bit wider, wanting to be touched as well. 

Paul had answered the silent plea with a roguish smirk and the magic arts of his henna adorned fingers, massaging his roommate's crotch with abandon, accompanied by sweet little whispered words and gentle kisses on a pale ear that was bejeweled today with gold and small sapphires. 

After a while Daryl's cheeks had started to glow and his lips had parted slightly. And when Jesus stopped for a moment, he had moved a bit closer in protest, spread his thighs even more and grabbed for the deft fingers to guide them back to his obviously very interested penis.

It was cute somehow. And annoyingly distracting. "I thought you wanted to study." Negan's tone sounded as frustrated as he felt and when he looked back down on his paper he had totally forgotten what he wanted to write or to whom. 

Jesus cleared his throat and sat up straight, smoothing his hair down a bit. "Yes, my Lord." He smiled and licked his lips, enjoying the sweet taste on them.

Daryl didn't seem as happy. He grasped his shrunken genitals through his thin pants and squeezed his legs together, looking up at the Emperor with knitted brows and pure distress on his pretty features.

"What's wrong, cadet?" Negan wrote two words and ended the sentence with a period. "Are you unwell?" 

Daryl nodded. He was very unwell and something was wrong with his penis.

"Is that so..." Negan read over the text he had composed. God, he hated all that hifalutin way of talking. "Come here." He waved two fingers at his chamberlain, beckoning him over. "Tell me what's wrong."

It was difficult to get up and Daryl had to walk a bit straddle-legged, feeling somehow like crying as he arrived at the big desk. He pulled his pants down in the front, showing his swollen penis.   

"Mikey!" Jesus gasped, whispering harshly through the room. "You can't undress in his presence when-"

Negan stopped him with a brief signal of his hand, casually taking a look at his servant's problem, trying to sound neutral but the smile was obvious in his voice. "Did Jesus make you hard?" It wasn't really hard. Maybe a little bit fuller than before, but not significantly.

Daryl shook his head. He didn't know what Jesus had done but he pointed at his penis to show what had happened to him. "Here." He really wanted the Emperor to stroke his hair or get some of the cooling ointment.

"Mhm, it's supposed to get bigger when somebody touches you nicely. It means you enjoy it and your shots are working." Negan pulled the thin pants up again. "I like it that way. Looks good." He pulled the small gold-peacock-colored belly ring that was attached to a beautifully exposed navel, arching his brows. "But you were not supposed to fucking fool around with Jesus. I told you to work on your presentation." He held the warning stare a moment longer, then pointed down at the free space next to his wooden chair. "Sit with me until I'm finished. And keep your hands off that pretty dick while you are in my study. I told you it's fucking distracting."

Daryl knelt down and lowered his head, feeling very guilty but also a lot better now that he was near the desk. He listened to the golden tip of the Emperor's fountain pen flowing smoothly over thick paper, loved how elegantly Jesus knelt on the floorcushion in perfect posture, and then leaned thankfully into the big hand coming down on his head to caress his hair, just as Denise had always done it. 

\----

"What a fucking dickhead." Negan watched the heavy door fall shut and slumped back into his chair. All the people asking for audiences today had been complete idiots, but Eldridge McElroy from Soperton in Treutlen County was by far the worst with his petition for a large-scale cultivation of psychedelic mushrooms. "Jerry!"

The door to the audience hall opened and a friendly guard stepped in. "Your Majesty?"

Negan waved two fingers. "Be good and send service. I need a drink before I see the next moron."

"My Lord." Jerry smirked, took a small bow and left, quietly closing the door.

Six minutes later, Negan's gaze moved towards the entry when the heavy door opened again, very slowly, and a young man entered, nervously flicking his head. He wore a new head piece that fell gracefully down his forehead like a delicate, sparkly waterfall and a beautiful dark blue cropped top. The matching, wide flowing pants hung especially low on his hips to reveal two dimples right above his round butt cheeks. He carried a silver tray with a wine goblet and a carafe, obviously having difficulties to keep it in balance.   

Negan watched, leaning into the left armrest of his chair to enjoy the view. Thumb under his stubbled chin, rubbing his lips with the side of his fingers. The faint jingling of jewelry and the padding of bare feet on a smooth stone floor sounded through the huge space, tipping the edge of his mouth up. 

The items on the tray clattered dangerously as the imperial chamberlain approached the row of heavy chairs, of which only the one in the middle was taken. He peeked up through his silky bangs and immediately dropped his head and sank down to his knees in front of polished black boots. "'m Lord." He huffed a nervous breath, flicked his head again and then did his best to lift the tray up blindly, offering the filled glass. It was accepted without a comment and he remained in the submissive position, not sure what to do next.

"Thank you." Negan sipped his wine and relaxed into the backrest of his chair, admiring all the beauty by his feet. "Are you wearing that pretty jewelry for me?" He lifted a finger off his goblet to point at his chamberlain's stunningly adorned forehead.

"Hm." Daryl glanced up and nodded. He did wear it for the Emperor. Jesus had given it to him.

"Good. Love it." Negan took another slow sip, appreciating the effort. "You look beautiful."

"Hm." Daryl nodded again, a shy smile on his lips. He looked really very beautiful. And to showcase it even more, he straightened his back and stuck his belly out because the prettiest jewelry was attached to his navel.

Negan chuckled into his cup. Fucking vain that boy was.  

The massive door opened again and the friendly guard in front of it announced the next visitor to be received in audience on the top of his lungs. "RICHARD WENTZ!" A man entered at a hurried pace, his face tense. He wore light armor over his grey clothing and took just a slight bow in front of the unpretentious throne. "Your Majesty."

Negan didn't lose his relaxed posture, nor the faint smile still lingering around his eyes. He gestured for Daryl to step to his right, waited patiently until the nervous servant had taken his place and then nodded at his guests' attire. "You are one of Ezekiel's people?"

"I am the head of the Kingdom's security." Richard didn't lower his gaze as it was custom in the Emperor's presence but looked him straight in the eye. "I am here to discuss the refugee problem."

"Hh." Negan rubbed his chin, scrutinizing the man silently.

"Some of our people are concerned about the growing burden the immigrants bring to our community."

"Is that so." He took a sip from his wine then rested the goblet on his thigh. "Are you out of food?"

"No." Richard adopted a firm stance, holding his head a bit higher. "Not yet. But we might be. Also, the cultural differences cause tensions between our citizens and... them. We had several fights to deal with already. They struggle to live under our rules. Our people don't like the-"

Negan lifted his hand off the armrest. "Ezekiel sent you?"

Richard pinched his nose. "No. I am here to speak for the concerned people he ignores. Good people, who just want to live in peace without strangers interfering."

"Well," Negan took the carafe off the tray Daryl was holding and gave himself a generous refill. "Richard Wentz, head of security. Sounds to me as if you're doing a piss poor job to make your folks feel safe." He raised the goblet in his guests' direction before he took a sip. "The Empire welcomes cultural differences and embraces the mix of races. We stand for unity." He drank again, gesturing to one of the huge black flags hanging from the ceiling at the far end of the room. "There is no you and them. All former Alexandrians who have peacefully surrendered are now citizens of the Empire and members of your community. Your King has taken them in with the promise to offer a free life, education, and safety. He told me all is going well."

Richard brought a hand up to his hip, growing frustrated. "Your Majesty, I think you do not-"

"You wanna know what I think, Richard?" Negan leaned two inches forward, his face set. "I think you are a little douchebag who thought it's a good idea to come here and whine like a spoiled brat because you have to share your stuff with the poor neighbor kids." He huffed a laugh that didn't sound really amused. "If you need more food, more supplies, more help... send a request with plausible reasoning and you'll get what you need. If you suck at your job, quit and become a fucking potato planter. If you don't understand  the Empire's philosophy let me give you a reminder." He paused, holding the piercing stare firmly. "We are saving people. We unite the communities and take the weak under our wings to make the world bigger, better and stronger. We don't go the easiest way, we go our way. It is hard but it damn well works. That is what you should tell your people. It is your fucking job to motivate them. Anxious, unhappy people are the result of bad leadership."

Richard gritted his teeth, staring back. "Is that how you save them? Keeping them as slaves?" He gestured at the young servant standing obediently by the Emperor's side with a tray in his hands.

Negan sucked his right canine tooth, soundly. Then leaned back into his chair, not taking his eyes off the man who had asked for an audience. "Daryl. Thank you for your service. Be good and go back to my room, please." 

Daryl's head shot up, surprised that he was spoken to. And as soon as he realized that he was supposed to leave, he wanted to contradict. But he didn't. There was a strange mood in the air and Negan seemed kind of angry, just as the other man. So he turned around and left, making padding noises on the smooth stone floor. When he had almost reached the door he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. He had forgotten to kiss the Emperor's ring and bid good night. But he didn't dare to go back now. "My Lord." It sounded shy and somehow hopeful, much too quiet for the big space and a 'good night' just wouldn't come out anymore. 

Negan heard it anyway. He broke eye contact with his visitor and allowed a friendly tone to soften his voice as he saw the young man standing at the other end of the room, making the cold environment much prettier. "I see you later, cadet." 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... to be continued tonight


	18. Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stunning Negan artwork by super talented darylfiend! I wanna build you a shrine and feed you with almonds, you wonderful person you <3

 

It was long dark outside when Daryl still sat quietly on the big floor cushion next to the Emperor's bedroom door. He had taken the tray back, had made fresh tea, poured more wine in a new goblet, filled pecans and dried berries into some of the small silver bowls, and prepared the bathroom for the evening. But Negan hadn't come back.  
Maybe he was still talking to the rude Kingdom man. Or maybe he had other audiences. Maybe he was at the fountain yard to visit Patricia or Jesus. Whatever it was, Daryl felt sad and disappointed. It had been so nice earlier when the Emperor had complimented him on his jewelry. And then the silly Kingdom Richard had to interrupt and make the Emperor angry.  
  
Daryl didn't know many people from the Kingdom, and Richard he had seen for the first time today. But obviously he wasn't a nice person. He hadn't addressed the Emperor in a respectful manner and all the things he had said about the citizens from Alexandria made Daryl sad. Most people from his hometown were nice. Maybe not Nicolas or Spencer or Mister Blake and some of the other high ranking men. But the servants were all friendly. He hoped they would make friends at the Kingdom and get to taste some of the wonderful rabbit meat.  
  
"Hff." He huffed a breath, hunching his shoulders. It had been almost three hours now since he had left the audience hall. Maybe he should go back and see if the Emperor needed more service. Tea and pecans maybe. Or fresh wine.      
  
Or some almonds because they were good after hard work.  
  
He glanced up, uncertain for a moment, but finally decided to go. He took a small silver bowl with exactly ten almonds inside and left the West Wing's private chambers. The friendly guard was still in front of the audience hall, signaling that his Imperial Highness hadn't left the room.  
  
When he saw the young chamberlain he didn't say anything but pushed the heavy door open with a bright smile.  
  
Daryl wanted to smile back but didn't and felt slight goosebumps crawl over his skin when he entered the huge, rather cold space with bare feet. It wasn't very bright in the back, but the front where the three thrones were lined up along the wall was well-lit. Richard from the Kingdom wasn't there anymore. Negan was alone, gazing into open space, lost in thought.  
  
Daryl stopped for a moment, in awe of the man sitting like a god in his heavy leather chair, his dark hair neatly slicked back, black kohl still perfectly applied around his eyes even after a long day of work. His leather chest armor was loosened a bit in the front and one leg hung over the right armrest as he fumbled with the wine goblet he held by the stem.  
  
It took a moment until he realized that somebody had entered but he didn't seem alarmed, just turned his head to see who it was. He didn't stop his visitor, even showed a very faint smile when he was shyly approached. A silver bowl of almonds was presented to him in a humble gesture and he shook his head, allowing the smile to reach his tired eyes. Instead of accepting the snack, he moved his left leg an inch to offer the free space in front of the chair.  
  
The comforting powdery scent of jasmine and roses scented the air as Daryl crouched down to the floor and shifted on his knees, nervously flicking his head with an insecure glance up.  
  
Negan reached a hand out to cup the side of his chamberlain's face, gazing at the flawless features as if it was an art object he considered to buy. He rubbed a gentle thumb over smooth skin, traced the shape of pale lips and smiled again, silently.  
  
It made Daryl's stomach flutter and his ears strangely hot. He poked the tip of his tongue out to touch the pad of the Emperor's thumb with it. "May I serve." His question was a quiet one and his voice sounded rough after hours without speaking, but he kept his eyes up, feeling his cheeks flush.  
  
Negan tilted his head to the right, studying his servant's expression. When he spoke, his answer was calm and soft, holding no reproach. "I told you there's no bedroom service in the new world."  
  
A hint of disappointment shone from blue eyes. Daryl lowered his head and after a moment nudged the side of a bare knee with his forehead. Then with his nose and finally placed a tiny kiss on it before he glanced up again in a silent plea.  
  
Negan brushed a strand of hair behind a prettily adorned ear. "Why."  
  
Daryl lifted a shoulder and tipped his head to the side, trapping the Emperor's long fingers between. "Make you feel good." It didn't sound very confident but it was the truth. "'n happy."  
  
Negan pursed his lips but the edges of his mouth tugged to form a faint smile."You want me happy?"  
  
"Mh." Daryl nodded once. He wanted that more than anything.  
  
"How come?" Negan's eyes followed his thumb as it brushed warm lips. They parted slightly under his touch and damp breath hit his skin.  
  
Daryl hesitated to answer, not sure whether the reply he wanted to give was disrespectful or inappropriate. And when he said it, it was barely loud enough to be really there. "I like you."    
  
The meek rest of wine in the luxuriant goblet was swirled twice before it got emptied and the glass was handed over without a comment.  
  
Daryl took it and carefully placed it on the smooth stone floor along with the small bowl of almonds. When he looked up again the faint smile on the Emperor's face was gone, replaced by something more decisive. Calm features with daring eyes, locked on the blush they had created.  
  
Negan reached for the buckle on the side of his leather kilt, opening it with ease. It was all he did before he leaned back and stretched his leg out a bit more, waiting.  
  
Mister Blake had often requested oral service, just like countless of his friends and guests that Daryl was supposed to please. He knew what to do, he was experienced and good at his job. But now he felt oddly shy and nervous as if it was the first time he was about to perform with his mouth.  
  
He shifted on his knees, moved a bit closer, glanced up and then bashfully dropped his gaze, his chest tight and hot somehow. His fingers felt cold, though and were slightly trembling when he reached for the leather kilt his commander was clad in. During the act of disrobing, he had helped to take it off before. Now it seemed kind of naughty to even touch it. It felt smooth and warm beneath his fingertips and he heard the faint jingling of his own jewelry as he fumbled with the buckle that was already unfastened and the two smaller ones right beside. He held his breath as he pulled the broad strap through the metal buckles and his knuckles came in contact with taut skin and the soft hair covering it. A thrill shot through his body as he opened the kilt and exposed black underwear and the growing fullness behind them. Lean hips and a hair-covered navel. Abdominal muscles, delightfully well defined. He glanced up for a second as if he wanted to make sure that the Emperor had seen it as well, but as soon as their eyes met he felt so embarrassed that he looked away instantly and hid his face against the beautiful flat stomach he had found. He pressed his lips and nose against it, loving the sensation of silky hair against his mouth. It was like fine fur. It smelled good, too. Intimate and manly. He kissed it and moved sideways to nip at a hipbone, then brought his hands up on long legs, stroking up and down to feel the strength in muscular thighs. He exhaled to get rid of some of the tension in his body and moved further up, kissing a path towards the remaining armor that protected the Emperor's chest. It was an easy task to unfasten it. He had done it countless times by now and knew every strap and buckle by heart. The crisp chest hair and hard muscle he found underneath were a familiar sight as well but still made his heart pound in wild excitement.  
  
He didn't remove the armor but pushed the leather parts to the left and right, then placed a humble kiss a few inches above Negan's belly button. The words 'My Lord' lingered on the tip of his tongue but he forgot to say them when a big hand came down on the back of his head, cupping it. For a moment it stayed there before long fingers started to comb through silky strands of hair. Gentle at first, then with more pressure. Sharp fingernails massaged his scalp, producing goosebumps that ran down his spine and made his shrunken penis twitch once in the thin fabric of his palatial attire. With a shy peek up and another small kiss he wandered deeper, rubbing his lips softly through the black hair covering the Emperor's lower belly. He stopped briefly at the border between skin and underwear, poked his tongue against it and glanced up as he curled his fingers beneath the broad waistband to tug it cautiously.  
  
Negan watched and arched his body off the seat, allowing for his underwear to be pulled down. It happened slowly, inch by inch, with bashfully cast down eyes.  
  
Daryl took each of the polished combat boots in his hands to get the tight briefs off and respectfully placed them on the floor to his left, then bent down low in his kneeling posture to kiss the insides of leather-clad calves, a little higher to bent knees, towards the insides of muscular thighs. He ran his tongue slowly up and down the hairy flesh, feeling the muscles jump under his lips. He let out a relieved little sigh of breath when the big hand came back to brush through his longish hair and wordlessly guide him until he could feel the bridge of his nose push against bare balls. The situation surprised him for a second and he paused, exhaling soundly before he gathered enough courage to move closer and bring his mouth to them. He tried to remember everything he had been taught at the women's quarters, hoping it would please the Emperor.  
  
His lips parted and he felt his breath turn hot in his lungs as he sucked one testicle into his mouth. Deep, caressing it with his tongue. Then the other while reaching up to wrap his fingers around the thick cock he had exposed. It was large and hard, encased in silky softness, surging even fuller in his shy grasp. A small moan escaped his throat because he was so overwhelmed to be that close to the Emperor, being allowed to please and serve him and make him feel good. He knew bedroom servants weren't allowed to make noise while they performed and he froze for a moment, considering to apologize. But the Emperor didn't say anything, just stroked his hair and toyed with his golden forehead jewelry, so he kept going, suckled the testicle a bit more before he released it and kept his eyes shut as he licked the length he was holding. He explored it with his tongue, teased the engorged vein that ran under the shaft, lapped the bead of fluid that wept from the tip and finally wrapped his lips around the silky smooth head, sucking softly. He heard a moan, low and deep and felt long fingers curl around the back of his neck, holding him in place. It wasn't what he was used to but he liked it very much and increased his efforts, gave the whole length a couple of slow, wet licks, scraped his teeth along the sensitive flesh and caressed the warm, hair covered skin at the base with wet kisses. He remembered it wasn't favored if he played around for too long, so he opened his mouth and took him all the way in.  
  
The Emperor's penis was different from Mister Blake's, thicker and longer, making it more difficult to contain it, but the taste was so good and the powerful feel of being trusted with such an intimate act made his belly tingle. He wanted to do even better and applied hard pressure with his tongue and lips, sucking hungrily.  
  
"Sst." Negan tightened his fingers in silky hair, pulling slightly. "Slow down, boy."  
  
Daryl froze immediately, looking up. His cheeks were hollowed out as he sucked a last time before he let go and murmured a guilty ''m sorry', the shade of red on his cheeks turning significantly deeper. He dropped his head, expecting a slap to his face. But it didn't come. Instead, his chin was lifted with two fingers.  
  
"You have a fucking beautiful mouth." Negan leaned down for a soft kiss, wet and sensual. "I wanna enjoy it for as long as possible. Right?" He gave pretty pink lips a broad lick. "Say, 'Yes My Lord, I make it last.'"  
  
The Emperor's close face and dark, silky voice speaking so nicely to him took Daryl by surprise. He wanted to nod but his chin was held in a firm grip, so he answered as he was supposed to. "Hm," he smacked his lips, "'can make it." nervously shuffling on his ankles. "My Lord."  
  
"Good boy." Negan was enthralled and kissed again. "I want you to keep your knees spread and your pretty eyes open. Look at me while you enjoy my cock."  
  
"Hm." This time Daryl's chin was released and he was able to nod, feeling a bit dizzy and very hot inside.  
  
"That's better." Negan nudged his servant's adorned forehead with his nose and sat back, relaxing into the backrest of his heavy chair. "Move back a bit. Show me your gorgeous belly button." He waved two fingers, then wrapped four around his rigid erection to stroke himself lazily.

Daryl slid a few inches backwards on the cool ground and flicked his head before he straightened his back and stuck out his belly. His peacock jewelry was really very beautiful.  
  
"Nice." Negan's gaze wandered over the potent image of submission right in front of him, taking in every pretty little detail. "Put your hand on your dick. Touch yourself for me."         
  
A shattered breath heaved from Daryl's chest, overwhelmed by all the orders and things happening. He pointed a finger at his crotch, not sure if he had understood the request right.  
  
Negan pursed his lips, nodding. Then tilted his head to the right, enjoying the innocent hand slipping beneath the broad waistband of sheer pants and the way his servant's facial expression changed as he started to tug and fondle his shrunken genitals. "Does that feel nice?"  
  
Daryl's eyebrows knitted, watching the Emperor's wonderful big hand stroking up and down his long penis. "Yes." He nodded, trying to copy the movement on his own penis but it didn't really work.  
  
"Yeah, it does, right..." Negan spread his own thighs a bit wider, seeing blue eyes fixed on his length. "You like my cock?" He thumbed the slit and spread some precum around the swollen head. "Does it taste good?"  
  
He received a very eager nod and slightly blushed lips parted in anticipation. "Yeah?" He stopped stroking himself and held his rock hard erection by the base in a daring offer. "Come here then. I want your fucking sweet mouth on me."  
  
Liquid heat shot through Daryl's veins, making his heart drum like crazy and his ears pulse. He tugged his penis and then squeezed it because it felt funny again and after a moment of hesitation moved back on his place between wonderful warrior boots. He huffed a nervous breath and leaned forward to kiss the four fingers loosely holding a throbbing cock. He said 'My Lord' but it came out as a mumbled whisper and then he remembered the rules and spread his knees for the Emperor. It was rewarded with a big hand cupping the side of his face. He poked his tongue out to lick the beautiful veins along the hard shaft in front of him and kept his eyes open while he did it, because he was supposed to. He wanted to make sure the Emperor saw it and peeked up at him as he wrapped his lips around a glistening cockhead.  
  
"Good job." Negan's fingers tightened slightly in longish strands of hair. "Are you looking at me while you enjoy my dick?"  
  
Daryl nodded, keeping his mouth where it was.  
  
"Yeah?" Negan's voice turned raspy. "Say, Yes My Lord."  
  
It made a faint popping noise when Daryl released the length after a serious suck. He licked his lips, "Yes, my Lord." and greedily went back to continue his work, swirling an overly wet tongue around the tip before he took the whole length in with his eyes obediently up.  
  
Negan groaned and let his head fall back, his fingers curling around the back of a warm neck. He had never experienced something as sweet and fucking arousing as this boy sucking him off. Unselfish, pure, not holding back a damn thing. His untainted desire to provide pleasure and joy as visible and obvious as all the jewelry and trinkets he paraded around so proudly.  
  
He had fantasized about this moment, having his pretty chamberlain tending to his needs. Having that velvety, pink tongue on his dick, those fucking innocent blue-framed eyes fixed on him, all that enticing jewelry and gorgeous attire by his feet, between his legs. But not in his wildest dreams would he have imagined it as good as this. And it made him furious to think of the reason why these fucking magical lips were able to please him so expertly. Why Daryl's usually rather clumsy fingers knew exactly how to handle him. Why he knew his way around another man's crotch better than his own. It made him want to kill a certain Philip in the most brutal way, along with every person who had ever used his pretty servant for their pleasure and entertainment.     
  
He looked back down, watching as spit wet lips moved eagerly on his length and makeup-framed eyes shone happily as they met his stare. It made him smile and wrap some strands of silky hair around his fingers. It was turning lighter under the influence of the Empire's sun. He liked it.  
  
... and then groaned as he was sucked in deep and a skillful tongue wrapped around the underside of his dick to create more friction. "Yeah, good boy..."  
  
Daryl looked up, keeping his rhythm slow and steady, savoring the taste. He had never been praised before for oral service or any other pleasure he provided and now that it happened he felt so happy that his belly tingled in joy. He loved that he was allowed to keep his eyes open. Seeing the Emperor's beautiful face while he received service was so exciting. There was a very faint blush on his high cheekbones, his eyes sparkled with arousal, his lips were slightly parted. It made him look different, more human maybe, but still powerful and sovereign.  
  
He pulled back a little and slowly circled his tongue around the thick head, exhaling hot breath before he opened his mouth wide and took in the whole length, making sure to keep eye contact. The piercing gaze he was given turned into a slight squint of stark pleasure with every inch that disappeared between glistening lips. He could feel the Emperor's abdominal muscles flex in anticipation when he relaxed and let the plump head breach his throat, his nostrils flaring for air.  
  
Negan grunted in pleasure, his need roaring in his veins as a hot, silky throat molded around his length like a glove. He opened his legs a bit more and moved to the edge of his seat, grasping Daryl's head to guide and encourage the direction. A tirade of filthy cusses begged to be released from his tongue but he bit his lip instead, staring down at those big innocent eyes that didn't really match the obscenely spit-framed mouth holding his cock, moving back in a torturously slow pace just to plunge back down all the way a moment later, taking him in to the hilt.  
  
Gentle fingers massaged his balls and inner thigh and he arched his back and tightened his grip on soft hair when Daryl refined his technique and started to contract his throat, letting skillfully controlled spasms ripple along his shaft. He gasped at the sensation as he gave in completely and relaxed back into his chair, closing his eyes at the mindblowing pleasure.  
  
Daryl moaned soundly. Big hands held his head and strong hips moved smoothly along with every long slide he performed with his mouth. And with each thrust and groan that he caused his own body turned hotter. He felt blood pulse in his ears and his heart drum in his chest. Something deep down in his lower belly clenched persistently and his butt throbbed, begging desperately for the silver placeholder... or the Emperor's wonderful hard penis filling him up. Images of himself offering anal service on the big bed in the West Wing's private chambers popped into his head and made him moan again and suckle greedily. He shifted on his ankles and glanced up, pleading. He really wanted the Emperor to use him for analfuck.  
  
"Fucking little-" Negan gritted out harshly, feeling the ferocity in him breaking free when the suction on his dick increased significantly and sweet entreating whimpering sounds vibrated through the hot throat working him. The tension wracked him. His fingers cramped into fists in longish strands of silky hair. He pulled his servant back as an intended warning to go slower but as soon as he looked down and saw a drool-wet mouth and blue-framed eyes fixed on him in deepest adoration he groaned and pushed him back onto his aching dick.  
  
Being manhandled like this was something Daryl was very familiar with, but now, for the first time he liked it. It made him feel proud and special. It spurred him on. It made him groan and hum and double his efforts, pick up his tempo and passion. He rose up on his knees for a new angle, feeling the soles of his bare feet tingle when the wet sounds of his own slurping and quiet gagging resounded in the huge room. He cupped the Emperor's balls, tugging and squeezing them in his warm palm as he sucked the massively swollen shaft as deep in as possible and swallowed around it to increase the pleasure.  
  
The sweat beading on Negan's body made his skin shimmer, the dark hair covering his torso was damp and matted down, his inner thighs and groin glistening. He thrust his hips, a safe hand on silky hair, groaning his satisfaction out openly, not caring if anyone would hear it.  
  
Daryl knew the Emperor was close to climax. He could tell by his breathing and the way he was coiling tighter with each stroke. And he wanted to push him over the edge, wanted him to feel nothing but pleasure and relief. Nothing but the two of them. He wanted to show how good he was, he wanted to do everything right and make his new leader proud.  
  
With a humble glance up he pulled back and wrapped five fingers around the slick length, pumping and tonguing the slit, licking off bubbles of salty precum.  
  
"Good job..." Negan combed his fingers through soft hair, his voice low and husky. "Are you making me cum like a good boy?"        
  
"Yes." Daryl gave a nod, loving that he was spoken to. He slid an inch closer and took the smooth head into his mouth, sucking expertly while he kept on stroking, excited when he caused a gasp and long fingers tightening in his hair.  
  
"Yeah, you do..." Negan panted, tensing. He worked a thumb past his servant's stretched lips, dislodging him from his throbbing cock to take matters into his own hands, needing control. "Go on, show me that fucking pretty mouth." He stroked himself, hard and fast, his gaze fixed on a pink, velvety tongue submissively stuck out, waiting for his seed. "Open, wide." He hooked two fingers behind a row of perfectly white teeth to pull Daryl's jaw down as his release tore out of him with a low growl and he ejaculated powerfully on a greedy tongue. Blue eyes were open and happily met his gaze, accompanied by a sweet little smile. It sent a bolt of heat right into his guts. He cursed, "Fucking look at you..."  
  
Daryl swallowed and smacked his lips as he was released, immediately going back to the pulsing length to finish his task. He moaned at the taste and thoroughly started to clean, licking and sucking gently, not wanting to miss a drop. He kept his eyes up, enjoying how his head was held with big hands and long fingers sifted through his hair. It was the best oral service he had ever given and he didn't want it to be over. He licked the Emperor's cock, his balls, the dark hair on his lower belly, his inner thigh and a teal gem adorning a wonderful, strong hand. "My Lord." It was just quietly mumbled and he lifted his eyes, wanting to add a 'Thank you' but it never came out. Instead his chin was grasped, almost harshly and a hot mouth crashed on his for an openmouthed kiss.  
  
Negan growled as he parted slightly swollen lips, tasting himself in that warm, silky cavity. He wanted to devour this boy, starting with his fucking wicked mouth that had given him no quarter. He curled three fingers around the back of his neck, holding him in place because he wasn't done. He delved deeper with his tongue, thrusting harder to claim mouth and boy with a greed and subtle anger he could hardly contain. There was no gentleness to his touch as he reached down to cup a perfect round ass cheek, squeezing it with another growl when the young man arched into his touch, writhing and whimpering in eager response between his legs. "Look at me." He broke the kiss, warningly biting a wet upper lip."For as long as you wanna be with me, you won't give pleasure to anyone else, is that understood." His voice took on a thick, possessive timbre when beautiful blue-framed eyes stared at him faithfully. "You can play inside the West Wing, inside the fountain yard... but that's it." He licked the last remains of his staggering climax off a smooth chin. "You want to be with somebody else, you will let me know. No cheating." Warm breath was huffed out between pretty lips, glowing pink from the excellent work they had done. He grazed them with his teeth. "Say, Yes My Lord."  
  
Daryl brought a hand between his own legs, squeezing his shrunken genitals because his penis twitched twice. Looking at the Emperor's beautiful face from such a close distance made his heart pulse in his throat. "Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Mhm." Negan brushed his nose along a warm cheek, inhaling deeply. "That was fucking amazing." He kissed a prettily adorned forehead. "Thank you."  
  
Daryl closed his eyes. The scent of warm leather, fresh sweat and citrus invading his overwhelmed senses. He felt rough facial hair against his skin and a big hand cupping the side of his face, giving him the courage to mumble a request that was really urgent. "Can we do analfuck."  
  
A deep chuckle, more enraptured than amused, rumbled from Negan's broad chest. "Not today. It's fucking late." He tucked a stray strand of silky hair behind a glowing ear. "Bedtime for horny little peacocks."  
  
\----  
  
It was dark and quiet in the Imperial fountain yard when Daryl came back. Not even the big birds in the golden cage were rustling as he went by and not one of the wonderful brass lanterns in Paul's room was lit. A bit of light fell in from the high balcony doors, though, revealing the peacefully sleeping man in bed, his long hair a dark blond chaos on velvety pillows.  
  
Daryl hesitated a moment before he sat down on the thick mattress, squeezing Paul's shoulder, then shaking it a bit.  
  
Tired eyes opened to look at him in confusion. "Is everything okay?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded, not able to suppress the wide smile spreading across his face. He pointed at his mouth.  
  
Jesus squinted before his eyes widened and he sat up, a strand of hair awkwardly standing up from the left side of his head. "Oh my god, really?" He leaned in close to lick Daryl's lips, ecstatic when he recognized the flavor. "Mikey! Did he enjoy it?"  
  
"Hm." Daryl nodded, pride and warm happiness flooding his chest. He pulled his legs up on the bed and curled up next to Jesus, instantly finding himself in a tight embrace.  
  
"Are you happy?"  
  
It was a question whispered after several minutes into his ear and he answered it in the same way. "Yes." Because he really was. Very much. At the Sanctuary, as a soldier, with the wonderful mighty Emperor, the beautiful servant and even all the peacock birds. He wanted to stay forever.  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a lovely week dear reader!puppies <3


	19. 'Cause you give me something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a firm member of TeamNegan I am going through a very hard time right now but thank GOD there's still fanfic when your original source lets you down. Off to dreamland beautiful peacock!puppies...

 

"'n food should be free in the whole world." Daryl licked his lips, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Not jus' in the Empire." He cleared his throat and flicked his head, holding up the little poster he had made with all the chickens, rabbits and coconut trees he had seen since he had arrived at the big capital city.

"Ques-ti-ons." Jesus whispered as inconspicuous as he could, reminding his roommate how he was supposed to end the presentation.

Daryl's eyes darted to the beautiful servant who sat near the windows and flicked his head again, huffing a breath. "You can ask somethin'." His offer sounded a bit gruff and was too low for the students in the back to even hear, but a couple of people in the front row raised their hands.

"What did you have to do to get food in Alexandria?" Benjamin had his legs stretched out underneath his table and was too lazy to actually take notes. He would just copy them later from Noah.

"Work." Daryl thought it was a stupid question and answered it accordingly grumpy.

Ron lifted his pencil. "But what if somebody got sick and couldn't work for food? Did others provide for them?"   

Daryl sniffed his nose, not sure why nobody asked about the rabbits or the free figs from the fruit baskets. "'got sick-food. We worked it off later."

"Oh, is sick-food like especially nutritious food? Ginger and lemon? Chicken broth?" A girl with blonde hair seemed awfully interested in the insurgent's lifestyle.

"Of course not." Daniel squinted at the stupid remark. "Did you not listen he just explained that the common folks basically lived of crap. Empty calories without any nutritional value."

The girl returned the squint. "He also said the important people of his community had better food. Maybe they got ginger or dates."

Siddiq huffed a laugh. "The insurgents don't grow food. Cucumber maybe but no dates, come on."

"You don't know that!"

Daryl wiped his nose with the back of his hand, looking from the blonde girl to Siddiq and back again, not sure if he was allowed to return to his seat. He really hated the auditorium and silly presentations.

\----

"He was awesome!" Jesus pointed his fork at Daryl's shoulder, not bothering to swallow his mouthful of dill rice first. "It was so interesting and everyone was discussing his paper afterwards." He chewed three times really fast before he stuffed a piece of chicken between his lips. "You should've been there." 

"Hm." Daryl agreed. He had been pretty good and he was really disappointed that the Emperor and most of the soldiers hadn't seen him.

"Next time." Sergeant Ford turned his chicken leg, finding more meat to pull off on the underside.

"Where have you all been anyways?" Jesus tucked a strand of long hair behind his ear, exposing a stunning, long dangling tassel earring in gold and lapis lazuli. It matched the thick aqua lines framing his eyes. "Did I miss a field day or something?"

"Nope." Abraham picked up his glass and emptied it in one go. "Safety check at the venue for tonight."   

"Ah." Jesus nodded, licking some dill and a rice kernel off his fork. "The party for the lesbians."

"What?" Glenn grinned but couldn't hide a hint of confusion. "They're not lesbians?"

"Oh please." Jesus snorted. "A whole community of just women? Better hide your girlfriends, guys. I smell trouble."

"I smell a lot of wine and pussyjuice." Simon licked a chicken bone clean and flicked it on his empty plate. "Bring them on."

Jesus wrinkled his nose. "Thank you, but no thanks." 

Simon laughed and picked up his glass. "You have no idea what you're missing, boy."

"Oh yes? You forget where I'm living. I've seen enough pussy for a lifetime. Right, Mikey?" 

"Hm?" Daryl glanced up, a hand between his legs to tug the seam of his low hanging pants and the genitals behind. He really didn't know why the Emperor didn't come to lunch today.   

"He didn't hear you, he's masturbating." Abraham's dry comment made seven men around him laugh.

"He's not." Jesus put his head on Daryl's shoulder. "He's just bored from all your vagina talk." 

The laughter didn't stop but Daryl rested his head on Paul's hair, not really caring. He was tired.

Jesus knew. "Care for a nap in boob-city?" He tickled Daryl's knee.

Daryl huffed a laugh. "Alright."

"Yes!" Jesus kissed a smooth jaw, rose gracefully to his feet and pulled Daryl up as well, taking him by the hand. "See you tonight, Gentlemen!"

\---- 

The Imperial fountain yard was in an uproar in the early afternoon when His Majesty was announced to grant the harem a visit. The reason behind wasn't specified but with the big celebration for Oceanside coming up in just a few hours, the girls had a good guess.

And whether it meant that the Emperor was looking for a lady to accompany him to the party or that he wanted to herald the imminent extension of his harem with a girl from the new community, the current citizens of the Sanctuary's fountain yard did their best to present themselves at their best side. Each one looked beautiful, clad in their nicest outfit, wearing flawless makeup and hair to sparkly jewelry. Bowls and vases had been filled with fresh fruit and flowers. More pillows and floor cushions got put out and even the peacocks and parrots looked especially groomed once a tall man in full leather armor entered the yard at 2:30 PM, leaving his guard behind at the doorless entrance.  

"My Lord." Four girls simultaneously sank to their knees, their heads lowered when Negan passed them, just briefly offering his ring to kiss. 

Amber approached the man without a knee fall and instead just smiled at him sweetly, not planning on getting ignored today. "What a nice surprise." She held on to his arm, taking his hand with a seductive glance up. "Will you stay for a while?"

"Not for long." Negan took a pomegranate out of a fruit bowl and put it back a moment later, looking around as if he was searching for something. "Did you take Pauline's room?"

"I have." Amber shrugged, innocently pursing her plum lips. "It's not as if she would come back, right?"

"We'll see." Negan withdrew his hand and went to an open door, finding the room behind unoccupied except for a peacock that just went out onto the balcony. "What about Frankie's room."

"Free at the moment." Amber came up from behind, trying to take Negan's fingers again but was dismissed. "Tanja wanted it, though. The light in here is nice."

"That's true." Tanja decided it was time for some initiative and kissed the Emperor's bare upper arm in an attempt to get noticed and hopefully chosen. "And the bed is much bigger. Wanna see?"

Jesus chuckled with a shake of his head. He sat near the golden birds cage, cross-legged, watching all the cheap advances. It was pathetic. And kind of sad really. He couldn't imagine being so desperate. On the other hand, of course, there was no need for him to smarm over his commander. One, because he knew Negan's preferences and two, he wore a chastity belt with the Emperor's signet where his female harem-comrades wore nothing but a soaked pantie and a sad glimmer of hope.

"Keep it free. Maybe I need it." Negan ignored the question and all the affection towards him, walking back to the yard's center. "Boy, where's Daryl."

Jesus offered a casual smile, digging the way Amber and three of the other girls hurried in slight panic after their commander. "He's in my room, Sir. We took a nap, but I guess he's up by now."

"Hm." Negan nodded. "Be good and wait for me at the West Wing. I'll be there in a bit."

An amused twinkle in blue eyes joined the subtle smile on Paul's face. "As you wish, Sir." He rose gracefully to his feet and tried not to laugh as he left the fountain yard, hearing a medley of outraged female voices caterwauling about unfair treatment, male favoritism, and the question why His Majesty needed a free room in the harem, because nobody here wanted to share the already rare opportunities for intercourse with a bitch from the Oceanside.  

\----  

"I've heard you gave a fantastic speech today." Negan entered Paul's bedroom, finding a young man kneeling on the floor, brushing his shiny hair with a silver brush. "Congratulations." He shut the door to silence the squabbling girls in the yard.

For a moment Daryl didn't know what to say, staring perplexedly up at the tall man suddenly standing right in front of him. "Hello." He put the hairbrush down, his greeting turning out a little gruff.

"Salam." Negan smiled, touching the top of Daryl's head with his fingertips as he went by to get to the balcony doors. He stepped outside, raising his voice. "Nice view you've got here."

"Hm." Daryl quickly scrambled to his feet, tugging the seam of his low hanging pants as he followed the Emperor outside. He joined him at the balcony rail and pointed at a tower with onion-shaped roof. "Look?" It was especially pretty at night.

"It's the old watchtower. My father had it built a long time ago. It was one of the first buildings here." 

"'s it for your enemies?"

"For the undead." Negan let his eyes wander over the city by his feet before he pushed off the balcony railing and went back inside. "We didn't have enemies back then." He walked through the room, picking up trinkets on the way to look at them. "You like it here?"

"Yes." Daryl followed the Emperor, flicking his head to get a silky strand of hair out of his face. It was exciting that he had a visitor. 

"Christ." Negan cursed as he opened a pretty wooden box and found a large assortment of toys inside. Plugs and dildos in various shapes and sizes. He knew Paul had a few toys. Some of them had been a gift from him personally. But he had no idea how big his collection was by now. 

"For here." Daryl pointed helpfully at his butt. "Jesus plays with it."

"Is that so." Negan picked a pair of pretty anal beads up and let them dangle from his fingers for a moment before he put them back with a sigh. "How do you know?" Interesting pictures of his pretty servant watching Paul play with a dildo popped into his head. Maybe he should visit the fountain yard more often. "Are you watching him, naughty peacock?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded. Sometimes he did. "'s a placeholder." He got a nice plug out of the velvet lined box and held it up for the Emperor to see. It was heavy and made of real brass with a round, blue topaz at its base.

"Imagine that." A smirk tugged the corner of Negan's mouth. He took the plug out of Daryl's fingers and put it back into the box, giving the young man a challenging look. "Do you miss yours?"

Daryl lifted one shoulder and rubbed his adorned ear against it as he stared at the Emperor's close face. He didn't miss his own but he was envious of all the pretty placeholders Jesus had.

"You want a new one?" Negan studied the expression in blue eyes, loving how it changed from uneasy to really interested. "Should I give you a sweet little plug to play with?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, fumbling with one of his earrings. He would really like that very much. 

Negan lowered his voice and moved closer to breathe in the alluring scent of warm, powdery skin. "Say 'Yes, my Lord.'"

Daryl exhaled a nervous puff of breath, wishing they would kiss. "Yes, my Lord." It was a quiet reply and got answered by a low chuckle that rumbled from a place deep down in the Emperor's broad chest.

"Good boy." Negan nudged a pale ear with the tip of his nose and stepped back, busying himself with a book about fashion he found on the nightstand. He opened it and sat down on Paul's bed, flipping through a few pages. "There's a room available. I thought you might want your own. You'd have more privacy and your own bed."

"Can Jesus come." Daryl liked that the Emperor sat down and talked to him. He wished he could serve him tea and pecans. 

Negan closed the book and threw it somewhere on the mattress. He sighed. "You wanna stay here with Jesus?"

Daryl nodded. "Yes." And then remembered a date he kept in one of the drawers. He got it out and presented it humbly on his palm. 

"Are you feeding me treats?"

"Hm." Daryl watched how the little dried fruit was taken and vanished between perfect lips. He moved his own, watching the Emperor chew. 

"It's good. Thank you."

A swirl of warm happiness filled his chest and he turned around to find more food, remembering the small potted trees on the balcony. One grew grapes. He hurried outside, picked one and brought it back to the man sitting on Paul's bed. "'s a grape." He held it out expectantly.

"It's an olive." Negan took it anyway and stuck it somewhere beneath the leather of his chest armor. "I'll keep it for later." He snapped his fingers and spread his legs, delighted when his servant sunk to his knees immediately, gazing at him with big hopeful eyes. "Look at you being so good."

Daryl slid an inch closer and straightened his back, pointing at his mouth. He really wanted to serve.

A smile moved to Negan's eyes. But he shook his head once. "Not now."

Daryl felt disappointed but maybe the Emperor was just tired. He looked kind of exhausted. "You can sleep."

Negan arched his brows. "Here?"

"Mh. 'can guard the door."

He chuckled at his servant's serious expression. "That's a nice offer, cadet." He ruffled shiny hair and got up with a sigh, "But I am afraid I have to decline." tucking a strand behind a prettily adorned ear. "It was nice to see you, though." He looked down and cupped a smooth cheek, for a moment considering to stay and forget the rest of his duties and appointments for the day and just drape his gorgeous chamberlain across all the velvet cushions and silky pillows to fuck him for hours. He didn't do it though and instead went to the door, just stopping for a second with his hand on the handle. "Think about taking the room. I will keep it free for a while."

\----

Jesus threw his head back, grimacing at the stark pleasure shooting through his body when his prostate was hit in the exact right angle. 

"The boy watched you play with your ass..." Negan hissed, nipping his lover's lips. "Isn't that right..."  

"Yeah... he does sometimes." Jesus clenched his thighs around Negan's waist, squeezing his eyes shut. He loved unexpected afternoon fucks, especially when his commander was this horny. "He'll rub his cute dick and hump the pillows. It's so hot."

"Yeah?" Negan circled his hips, then delivered a hard thrust home, making Paul moan and arch his back. "You wanna suck him, do you..."

"Yes, I do... here... for your pleasure." 

A breathless chuckle rumbled from Negan's throat as he slammed his lover against the solid headboard with each thrust. "You think I'd let you, boy?"

Paul opened his mouth to answer but with another ruthless thrust all remaining air was pushed out of his lungs and he knitted his eyebrows, a shudder rippling through his whole body when he was sent into a powerful climax. 

In three more hard strokes Negan followed, holding Paul's wrists down left and right on the pillow as he rode out his orgasm, staring down at a feverish, slightly sweaty face. "Fuckin' gorgeous..." He leaned in for a breathless lick over wet lips, completely adoring the smudgy smears of dark blue makeup around his lover's eyes.

"You are." There wasn't any hint of the usual cheekiness in Paul's voice, still absolutely overwhelmed by the powerful man pressing him into the mattress. 

Negan huffed a chuckle and dropped his head, reveling in the natural highs his heated body produced. He wanted to fall asleep. Just like that, buried to the hilt between those firm ass cheeks. No dreams, no thoughts, no obligations.  No silly party attendance. Nobody kissing his feet, ass, or ring with a fake smile just to wiggle something out of him. 

"My Lord?" Jesus played with the short hair at the back of Negan's neck, his eyes closed. "Would you mind if I bring Mikey tonight?"

The answer took a while and was spoken into the privacy of a luxurious down pillow and a mess of disheveled hair. "Don't think he'd be interested to go. Will be boring as shit."

"Hm." Jesus frowned. "All the more reason to invite him." He nuzzled his cheek against rough facial hair as he stroked Negan's bare upper back with gentle fingertips. It didn't matter that he didn't receive another answer. He knew full well that he was right. 

\----

A crisis meeting in the West Wing was convened in the late afternoon after word came through that the outpost near Columbia had been attacked. Taken out by an unknown group. The responsible scouts of the area were missing. 73 men dead for sure. The guards shot, most of the rest slaughtered in their sleep. Their throats cut open.     

Reconnaissance troops were sent immediately and for the first time in years, the whole council including the Imperial aide were in agreement that the public shouldn't be informed and that the Emperor should remain at the capital until further notice. For appearances' sake.

The Sanctuary's newest Chamberlain hadn't been present during the meeting. But when he entered the private study afterwards he knew something was off. The Emperor sat at his desk with a frowning expression, quietly staring into space, his chin resting atop his fingers forming a steeple. And not even the glass of tea or the small bowl of pecans placed in front of him made him look up.

Daryl wasn't sure whether he should say something or maybe leave. In the end, he did neither of the two and just knelt down next to the heavy desk chair. He kept his eyes lowered for almost 4 minutes and then leaned his forehead against the wooden armrest, trying to give some comfort, even though he didn't know whether the Emperor was sad or angry or maybe just very tired.

After another minute he felt a hand move to the back of his head. He felt his stomach grow hot when long fingers threaded through his hair before they tightened at the nape of his neck. He felt his heartbeat speed up when he glanced up and saw dark eyes on him. Gentle yet intense, as always. But for some reason, even framed with black kohl, they seemed different. As if they tried to find or say something. They looked more human than ever.

It made Daryl's brows knit and he rose up on his knees and lifted a hand to touch the Emperor's face. Feeling the smoothness of warm skin underneath rough stubble. Feeling the human shining through.

Negan rubbed his cheek against the shy hand, then pressed a kiss to its palm, hiding his face for just a brief moment in the comforting warmth and scent. Jasmine, sandalwood, and roses. His chest rose and fell with the deep breath he took. He closed his eyes and turned his head, pulling his sweet servant up and met him halfway. Touching first their noses together, then their lips. As light as a feather, loving how Daryl held his breath before he let it out in a small, excited huff. He pulled back just slightly and slowly brought his mouth back down a second later, the tip of his tongue nudging the barrier of closed lips. With a tiny whimper, they parted for him, letting him taste what he craved most right now. Untainted innocence and everything peaceful. Warm silk. With a hint of ripe figs and other delicacies the fountain yard had to offer. He groaned in pleasure and deepened the kiss, raked his fingers through soft strands of hair and traced the contours of beautifully adorned ears, drinking in all the faint little moans he produced. He wanted to stay forever in this place.

But he couldn't.

"Am I interrupting?" Siddiq knocked at the door and opened it in the same moment. He wasn't really surprised by the scene he ran into. His brother sure knew how to enjoy himself. But the level of intimacy he witnessed was rather confusing.

Negan didn't pull back right away. He took his time, kissed his chamberlain's forehead and then spoke right next to his ear. "Thanks for the tea, cadet. Go, tell Jesus I changed my mind." He offered his hand as support to help the young man up from the ground and kept his eyes on him until he had left the room and closed the door behind him.

"That seemed... kind of serious?" Siddiq grabbed an apple out of a bowl and took a small bite as he sat down on the edge of the big desk. "I bet Amber doesn't like it."

Negan got up, flinging a couple of documents on a side table. "I bet you wanna keep your nose out of my fucking business."

"Just an observation." Siddiq shrugged, taking another bite. "Will he be like another Jesus?" The withering death stare that hit him right between the eyes made him smirk. "I mean you do realize that 162 beach ladies dress up right now because they hope for a place in your harem?" The apple was slapped out of his hand before he was dragged off the desk.

"What do you want."

Siddiq picked the apple up, his face growing more serious. "Three of the Columbia scouts were found dead. The fourth is still missing."

"Seth?" Negan's expression hardened.

"Yes." Siddiq nodded, lowering his eyes. He was fully aware that it had just been Seth's third month on duty. "I'll leave with the next platoon." 

"Hm." Negan gave a nod, nudging the big floor cushion with his foot. He felt the hand touching his arm, he heard the small 'Farewell' and still waited until the last second before he said something.

"Hey, Keshmesh."

Siddiq stopped in the doorframe. "Don't call me that." 

"I'll carve it personally into your fucking tombstone if you don't come back in one fucking piece." Negan stepped up behind him, forcing him to turn around.

"Don't you dare." Siddiq huffed a laugh. "I'll haunt your flat ass forever." 

Negan wasn't in the mood to joke around. He took his brother's face into both hands, arching his brows at him. "Be. Safe."

"I will." Siddiq nodded, then closed his eyes when his forehead was kissed.

"Good." Negan let go and briefly touched the other man's shoulder before he left, closing the bedroom door behind him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next: ...makes me scared alright


	20. ... makes me scared alright

 

"Really? Isn't it a bit too much?" Amber gave her reflection and the very generous layers of purple lipstick and orange eyeshadow a skeptical look. She wasn't sure if it matched the 9-inch beehive hairdo gracing her head.

"Nooo." Jesus negated vehemently, managing to keep a totally straight face as he sprayed his masterpiece with a bit more hairspray to preserve it for eternity or at least the next three weeks. "It's perfect. Brings out your natural beauty."  

"Yes..." Amber turned her head from left to right and moved a bit closer to the mirror to see her face from every angle and up close. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am!" Jesus got up and shooed his gullible harem comrade off the little vanity stool. "And now hurry, you don't wanna be late, right? The others are waiting."

"Okay." She almost stumbled over a slightly loose tile in her adventurous high heels but caught herself in the last second and waved happily before she left the fountain yard. "Thanks again, Paul!"

"No problem, Ambs! Go grab him!" Jesus waved back with a bright, very fake smile, "Good luck!" ...that slipped off his face and got replaced by pure abhorrence as soon as she was out of sight. "You're gonna need it."

Daryl gestured with the container of bird food after the woman who had just left the yard with a bit of delay. "What's with her face." He wrinkled his nose in disapproval.

"Hm?" Jesus turned around, innocence shining like twinkle stars from his eyes. "Oh you know, I just helped her to dress for the party. She was afraid His Excellency would dismiss her again." He put an arm around Daryl's shoulders, guiding him through the perfectly quiet yard, glad that they finally had the place to themselves. 

"Hm." Daryl wasn't sure whether he understood the concept because the Emperor was probably not a fan of weird hair mountains and purple lips.

"But the thing is..." Paul flopped down on the big blue velvet sofa and patted the free seat next to him. "If she ends up in bed with him he will be grumpy in the morning and then I have to suffer through morning drill and will be sore all day and it's just-" He sighed and shook his head, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. "Believe me it's best this way."

"Hm." It sounded very plausible, Daryl had to admit and pulled his feet up onto the plush seat when Paul snuggled up close to his side and kissed his cheek. He really didn't want any of the giggling girls in the wonderful big bed. The whole room would smell like women again and the thought alone made his stomach cramp in sadness.

"Aaand-" Paul laced their fingers together, smiling. "I want us to be the prettiest people at the party tonight."

Daryl smiled as well. He wanted that, too. "Do we go now?"

"Hm." Jesus squeezed Daryl's hand once. "Not yet. Let's give the boob-patrol a head start. He will appreciate us more if he's surrounded by feminine charms for a while."

\----

The party venue was at the other end of town. An enormous building with clear lines and sharp edges, made of limestone and white marble, with the Empire's emblem, resplendently displayed above the roof by blue lights that projected it right into the dark night sky. Thanks to hundreds of perfectly placed spotlights, the whole building seemed to have a blue-ish glow to it, just like the huge fountain in the front and the broad marble stairs leading right to the entrance. The whole place vibrated with energy, music, and cheerful voices. 

People came in flocks, not only local citizens but also from outside of town. It was a rare occurrence that the imperial household invited to a social gathering and especially the female guests had spend hours and days to carefully compile their outfits for the festivities, since their host was the most eligible bachelor of the new world after all and it was rumored that one or two spots at the Sanctuary's fountain yard might be open right now.

"A looot of tits here tonight." Simon slumped in his big leather armchair to the Emperor's left, swirling a big wine goblet in his hand. "I mean... not that I'm complainin'." He shrugged and took a swig, making eye contact with a lady from the Empire's newest community. She wore a strange dress made of fishnet. He was impressed.

Negan not so much. After the 25th basket of dried fish presented to him as a token of gratitude and the 71st more or less subtle request to join the imperial harem, he had been ready to throw himself on Jerry's ax, head first. And he really had to force himself to move his lips into a somewhat friendly smile when Oceansider number 72 appeared in front of his throne to pay her respects and show off her female curves.

"Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation." Cyndie took a humble bow, trying to will the nervousness out of her voice. She had heard that the Emperor was an exceptionally fine specimen of the male species. But seeing him now in person made her realize that all the rumors didn't do him justice. She had imagined a man with blond hair and blue eyes, clad in a red fur robe, a golden crown on his head. But the man she was faced with couldn't have been more different. Tall and lean. Dark hair and eyes, neatly trimmed facial hair to high cheekbones. He wore black kohl underneath his eyes and small, matching black studs in his earlobes. A black leather armor clad his athletic body, practically molded onto his defined chest, leaving his arms and most of his legs free to expose tanned skin and fine dark body hair. She knew she was supposed to keep her eyes down for the procedure of greeting but she couldn't help but glance up. He was stunning and as soon as he started speaking her heart skipped a beat or two.

"Salam. What's your name." 

His voice was deep and comforting, giving her the courage to actually answer the question. "Cyndie, my Lord." A big hand with long fingers, adorned with several gold rings was held in her direction. One of them had a beautiful teal gem and she bent down to kiss it, her stomach fluttering in excitement.

"Very well." Negan pulled his hand back, examining the shy girl by his feet. She was pretty and not as obtrusive as all the others. "Thank you for coming, Cyndie. Hope you enjoy the evening."

A smile graced the young woman's face. "I do. It is beautif-" She got interrupted by another girl coming up from behind with two glasses of champagne in her hands. 

"A drink, my Lord?" Amber couldn't hide the snide tone in her voice, seeing another beach bitch crawling in front of her commander's feet and him seeming slightly interested. "You look thirsty!"

Negan suppressed a groan, just lifting an eyebrow in annoyance. He hated jealous women even more than purple lipstick to orange eyeshadow. "Sure." He accepted one of the glasses, emptied it in one go and was just about to grab the other one as well when he saw two new guests stepping through the high entrance into the crowded venue, instantly drawing all eyes their way. 

He had seen his newest chamberlain in various gorgeous outfits already but this time Jesus had outdone himself, by dressing Daryl into a turquoise, wide flowing şalvar with a broad golden waistband that ended right beneath his adorned belly button and wasn't matched by a top made of fabric but a harness made of delicate gold chains falling like a waterfall down the man's chest and back. A few white pearls and gold plated conch shells were braided into his longish hair, along with one small peacock feather just to make a statement. Green and aqua tones framed his eyes and his ears and wrists were adorned with jewelry made of polished abalone shells. He seemed curious as he looked around the unfamiliar scene but nervously tugged the seam of his low hanging pants when Jesus guided him towards the tables with the seafood buffet. It was the most delightful thing he had seen all night.

"My Lord?" Amber snapped her fingers in front of the man's face, trying to gain his attention. "I said, should I get you something to eat."

"No." Negan didn't take his eyes off the two young men who inspected a platter with seaweed salad. "But why don't you go and show Cyndie around a bit. I bet she would like to meet some of the girls." He ignored any words of protest, just waved two fingers to enforce his request and then stretched one of his legs out and sat more comfortably to watch his chamberlain at the buffet tables sniff a cooked crayfish.

\----

Daryl wasn't sure whether he liked the ocean party. It had weird food, strange music, and almost only female guests, leering at every man they caught sight of. The apple juice was really good, though. 

"What's so funny?" Jesus grinned from one ear to the other, seeing his roommate chuckle uncontrollably for no reason at all. They had chosen a strategically clever place to sit, in the middle of the room on a group of velvety chaises longues where not only all the guests could check them out in all their glory, but also His Majesty had an unimpeded view to see what he was missing while he got ensnared by a whole community of sex-starved seawitches.

Daryl didn't answer but chuckled again and touched Paul's wonderful beard. He liked it so much. And the Emperor because he was so nice and pretty. But far away, at the other end of the huge room, where he sat with one of his generals and some other men, holding conversations and drinking wine. 

"You wanna go greet him?" Paul caught one of Daryl's fingers with his teeth, his eyes twinkling when he received a nod instantly. "Yeah, we should probably save him." He sucked the soft fingertip between his lips for just a second and then released it to get up and guide a slightly tipsy chamberlain safely through a crowd of people. As soon as he was close enough, he locked eyes with his commander, giving him a tiny smirk in a mixture of devotion and mischief. "My Lord." He performed a graceful prostration that made all the jewelry he wore jingle in unison and silky long strands of hair fall into his flawless face. "What a splendid party. Thank you for having us." He glanced up through long lashes as he kissed the broad ring he was offered, knowing exactly how gorgeous he looked in his shimmering fish scale belly dancing outfit that was especially tailored for this evening. "I can't wait to perform for your pleasure... later tonight." There was a dancing enactment planned as a highlight for the celebration and of course he would participate. But he had a much different performance in mind... much later, after the party.

Negan had no illusions and let a low chuckle rumble from the depth of his throat. "You're fuckin' late. Couldn't find your good Sunday plug?"

Jesus smirked with a half-shrug, "Maybe." and rose to his feet to make room for the man he had brought along.

Daryl took a deep breath for no specific reason and blinked three times before he sank down on his knees, spilling a bit of his drink on a wonderful combat boot. He loved the teal gem in front of his nose and touched it with the tip of his tongue before he did the same to long fingers and the back of the most beautiful hand he had ever seen. There was a golden bangle adorning a slender wrist, standing in stark contrast to black arm hair. Daryl looked at it for a moment and then nudged it with his nose. "M' Lord."

"Salam." Negan didn't lose his relaxed posture, just watched in total adoration how the man by his feet worshipped his hand and all the details coming with it. The powdery scent of jasmine and roses invaded his senses and he tipped his head to the left fighting against the urge to touch silky hair and every shell and pearl braided into. "What are you drinking, cadet?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded even though the gesture didn't match the question he had been asked and then lifted his glass, holding it a bit askew. "Apple juice." He held it another inch higher up. "You can have it."

"It's wine." Negan took it and drank, not taking his eyes off his servant's fascinated face.

Daryl watched as his glass was emptied and licked his own lips, wishing he had more drinks or maybe some dates he could give the Emperor. But he hadn't and instead put his hands on the man's bare thighs, the tips of his fingers vanishing underneath his leather kilt. "Can I serve."

The blunt offer in slightly gruff tone evoked roaring laughter from Simon who celebrated the young eunuch's invisible balls with a hearty gulp from his wine goblet.

"Sst." Negan didn't join the laughter and didn't move, just gave his voice a firm undertone. "Hands off." He locked eyes and waited patiently until his order was followed before he handed the empty glass back. "You may serve. Go bring me some water and something to eat."

Daryl stared up at the Emperor's beautiful face and needed a moment until his foggy brain understood the task. He felt a bit dizzy when he got up, stumbled once on the way to the buffet tables and then licked the rim of the empty glass as he stood in front of the wide food selection, unsure of what to take. There wasn't any rabbit meat, no figs or grapes, and some of the food on the big serving platters had still legs and eyes. But a friendly man with white hair took a few white crunchy things and a red apple so he selected the same and refilled the glass with water. 

By the time he arrived back at the row of heavy leather armchairs, he received no attention at all because Simon told a story about a missing supply cart and all the whiskey that got tragically lost along with it. Negan laughed and just snapped his fingers blindly to his right, gesturing for his servant to kneel.

Daryl did, even though he spilled a bit of water and lost one of the white crunchy bits. The cushion he was supposed to sit on wasn't as big and luxurious as the ones he had at the Sanctuary but it was soft and very close to the Emperor's chair. Close enough to smell the scent of lime and warm leather. Close enough to listen to the men's conversation and cheerful, booming laughter. Close enough to witness all the ocean girls approaching the Emperor with knee fall and seductive looks, trying to gain his interest and attention. Daryl found them all equally unpleasant, especially the one with the starfish belly ring. He really wished Jesus could do their hair and makeup. 

"Ivy... that's a pretty name." Negan gave the girl by his feet an appraising once over and blindly reached for the glass of water his servant was holding. "What's your job back home at your community?"

She smiled, glad that she obviously took her host's fancy, "I am a tile maker, my Lord." and then looked a little unsettled when a beautiful guy with long hair and a stunning tassel earring came up to the Emperor's left and blatantly sat down onto the throne's armrest as if he did so every day.  

"What a coincidence." Jesus played with the short hair at Negan's neck. "We have a lot of tiles outside. Beautifully handcrafted. I would be happy to show you." He smirked, turning to nuzzle the black, shiny stud in His Majesty's ear. "I mean... if you don't mind, Sir."

Negan pursed his lips with a little gesture of his hand. "I don't." 

"Mhh." Jesus sniffed the side of a bronzed neck before he whispered his humble gratitude against it. "Thank you so much, my Lord. I'll see you later then."

Negan nodded, taking a sip of his water as he watched Paul dragging a slightly confused Oceanside-girl through the crowds towards the exit. He wished this evening would be over already. And then smiled faintly as he glanced to the right and saw his chamberlain holding an apple up for him to eat with hopeful eyes. "Did you bring me food?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded with the most serious expression, gave the apple a small kiss and held it up even higher.

Negan watched, trying to burn the sweet image into his memory for all eternity. He exhaled with a sigh, taking hold of his servant's wrist to pull it up and take a big, crunching bite out of the offered fruit. He chewed, smirking, and gave the bite mark he had created a daring lick before he released the hand again. "Thank you. It's good." 

The tip of Daryl's tongue darted out, first to nudge his upper lip, then to shyly lick the apple at the exact same spot the Emperor had done it. He raised one shoulder and couldn't help but to smile a little.

Negan held eye contact for a moment, then pinched a smooth chin and turned back to Simon, almost stubbornly denying himself more interaction with his endearing company.     

\----

There was a dance performance in the later evening. First, some women of the Empire's newest community showed a ballet-like play, telling the story of their tribe and origin. Then the capital city's professional dancers performed samples of their upcoming show for the amphitheater. And even though Jesus had a solo part and looked fantastic, Daryl could hardly concentrate. The Emperor had emptied the water and taken three more bites of the apple, but other than that didn't really pay him any attention. Instead, he had talked to more women, even laughed with one of them and touched the hand of another. Daryl wanted to hit them all or shoot them with his crossbow. He wanted to yell at the Emperor. But most of all he wanted to cry because he felt almost invisible sitting there with an apple core and three weird white crunchy things, with not much more purpose than a piece of furniture would have. 

After almost 70 minutes of no word or gesture towards him, he considered to just get up and leave. But a new song started and the capital's dancers showed some dramatic new hip moves emphasized by bare, stomping feet and loud jingling coin belts. Everyone cheered and applauded. So he stayed and put the three weird crunchy bits into the empty water glass, shoving it underneath the heavy armchair.

After 85 minutes a woman named Cyndie approached the Emperor. For the fifth time. And when she took a bow in front of the throne, Negan brushed a strand of long dark hair out of her face. He smirked while he did it and Daryl felt his heart clench as well as his stomach. It made his chest hot and cold at the same time and his throat so tight it hurt. He had to look away and hold his breath.

The lighting in the room changed for the final act of the dance performance, from a bright blue-ish glow into a darker amber-brown, and with it Daryl's vision got blurry. He hated the silly music, the velvet cushion he knelt on, every single shell braided into his hair and most of all the apple core he still held on to. He stared at it even though he couldn't really see it anymore and then squeezed his eyes shut, making a thick tear roll down his cheek when a big hand suddenly touched the back of his neck. Out of nowhere. It wasn't the confident touch he was used to. It felt timid and soft. It made his skin burn and his heart stumble. He froze but the little sob that wanted out of his throat made its way into the open anyway. It sounded shattered and made the fingers underneath his longish hair still for a moment as if they had heard it too. They remained still for a while... and then moved. Past a prettily adorned ear, a warm cheek, underneath a smooth chin to gently tip it up.   

Daryl didn't really fight it and the face looking down at him seemed surprised. With furrowed brows and quizzical eyes.

It made his throat even tighter and he jerked his head free, not wanting to be touched any longer. His wish was granted and he left the stupid apple core on the velvety cushion next to the Emperor's throne when a nameless servant was ordered to take him back to the Sanctuary thirty minutes later. Without kissing any ring or bidding good night.

\----   

At almost four AM, Daryl knew the celebration for the Oceanside was long over. The whole city had fallen silent and the typical orange glow of the countless brass lanterns he could see every night from the fountain yard's balcony had dimmed down. The night air was cool and fresh, smelling of trees and flowers he was now familiar with. He glanced up into the dark sky, finding the one star he was looking for with ease. Whether he still wanted it to be his own he didn't know. But he wished Denise could come through the door, using her silver key, and sit with him and stroke his hair. Tell him a good night wish and make him fall asleep.

Denise didn't come, and neither was it Jesus who entered his bedroom in the middle of the night. Daryl could tell by the sound of heavy combat boots and the faint smell of lime and something musky. All combined made his body tense and his heart speed up in confusion and excitement. 

He didn't turn around when this tall, imposing man stepped out onto the balcony to join him and he didn't say anything when he felt a solid body right behind him, touching his backside. A deep voice vibrated through a broad chest, low and soothing, calming his tense muscles and thumping heart. 

"Are you looking at your star?" Negan took a deep breath, tipping his head back to watch the starry sky.

Daryl pulled his shoulders up and shook his head once, not wanting to speak. 

"That's sad. I do often."

But after a moment he did it anyway, his quiet voice sounding gruff and hostile. "Jesus didn' come back."

It had no effect on Negan's calm tone. "He's in my bed."  

The answer made Daryl's ears hot and his belly numb. "For analfuck." 

"Yes." Negan leaned in even closer, resting his bearded chin on silky hair. "It's what I needed."

Daryl's eyes darted from left to right and he pulled his thumb in front of his chest, not knowing what to do. The blunt answer stabbed his heart like a knife but it didn't match the gentle voice talking to him or the comforting hand slowly stroking up and down his side.

"One of the new girls will probably move in here." Negan gazed out into the nightly city, inhaling his servant's powdery scent. "It's what I have to do." He felt the body in front of him freezing up as if somebody had poured ice into those delicate blue-ish veins. It made him close his eyes. It made his voice disappear for a long while. And when it came back it sounded rougher than usual. "Where are your parents. Do you remember them?"

The question surprised Daryl and a vague image of a small house and a faceless person popped into his mind. It unsettled him and he shook his head, feeling a rough beard against his hair.

Negan opened his eyes, staring at the shadowy silhouette of one of the big buildings in the south, prettily illuminated by the moonlight. "Would Denise like me?" 

As if his breath got startled by the unexpected question it hitched in Daryl's throat and he held it for a few seconds before he let it out soundly. He nodded, adding a small 'Yes'. Not knowing if it was really the truth. But he wanted it to be.  

Negan closed his eyes again, digging his nose into the crook of a warm, very smooth neck. Its smell made something in his heart strangely happy and he kissed it, twice. "Nobody looked more beautiful than you tonight." He moved back, placing a third kiss to one of the tiny conch shells still braided into silky hair, "Sleep well, boy." and turned to leave.

Daryl missed the close contact instantly, it felt cold at his back and wrong in his chest and he turned around as well, sinking to his knees. It was only now that he realized that the Emperor wore one of his long black tunics instead of his leather armor. He knew there was nothing underneath and he knew why. But he glanced up anyway, holding his hand out when Negan stopped and turned around. The ring was quietly offered to him and he didn't really kiss it. Just rested his lips on it, holding on to long fingers. He wanted to say, 'My Lord', he wanted to bid good night. He wanted to apologize for stuffing the white crunchy bits into the empty water glass.

And he shut his eyes in pure relief when a knuckle lifted against his lips to caress them gently. When a big hand came down on his head to stroke his hair and then moved to the side of his face to cup it. He nestled into the touch and wanted to cry when it suddenly ended and the hand on his face left, as well as long fingers and a wonderful gold ring with teal gem. Heavy warrior boots vanished out of his sight, through wide open balcony doors. Out of the room, leaving nothing but silence and painful yearning.

\----

Jesus woke up with the sunrise, feeling sore in all the right places and much too comfortable in the big, luxurious bed he had been invited to. He stretched his body and looked to the side, finding his lover still sound asleep. The most powerful man in the new world. The founder of everything he knew. The man who owned his heart, his mind, and every piece of his body. The man who had an entire Empire worshiping him on their knees.

The strongest person he knew.

And yet he looked nothing but human in the first, dim light of the early morning. Vulnerable and beautiful. His features relaxed, silky long lashes resting against flawless skin.

The peaceful image made Paul's heart ache and he moved closer, kissing the long fingers laying on a black pillow... with a small almond underneath. 

 

 

 


	21. Dare

 

 

It was still early but the capital's streets started to fill already. Women taking their children to school, merchants transporting their goods to the bazaar, some opening their shops, others making their way to one of the big public canteens for breakfast. 

Daryl stood near the bakery, enjoying the smell of freshly baked barbari bread. He was hungry. But he had no points and he didn't want to go to the canteen. Not to one here in town and not to the one at the Sanctuary. He didn't want to join morning drill either and he had skipped his duty at the West Wing entirely after Jesus had dressed him for the day. 

He wanted to be as far away from the fountain yard as possible. Far away from the entire palace. 

He didn't want to be there when the new woman moved in. The one from the Oceanside.

He didn't want to see her, didn't want to hear her voice, or smell her perfume. He didn't want to witness her talking to the other girls, swooning over the Emperor's gorgeous body or his pretty face.

And he didn't care if he would be punished for it or banished from the Empire. Everything was better than picking ugly lingerie up from the floor and making a stinking bed. 

"Daryl!" A young man with dark skin and bright smile came down the street, a big basket with fresh fruits tucked under one arm. "Salam! Fancy meeting you here! You look divine! Are you running errands for His Majesty?"

Daryl glanced up, needing a moment to recognize the man. It was Stretford. But he didn't have any figs in his basket today, just grapes, peaches and apples. "Mh." He shook his head because he wasn't running errands, he was just hiding from the giggling girls.

"A stroll through our beautiful city?" Stretford handed an especially polished apple over. "Would you mind if I join for a while?"

"Hm." Daryl accepted the fruit, shrugging as he took a bite. He wouldn't mind to take a walk and eat some grapes and apples.

"Awesome!" Stretford put an arm around the imperial chamberlain's shoulders. "Let's go to the park!"

\---- 

"Normally I wouldn't worry too much. Our Prince Imperial is a fierce one, trained by His Majesty personally. And his men are the best, special troops battalion." Stretford put his basket on a bench at the wayside and sat down next to it, sighing. "But somehow it feels different this time. It's not about power or territory. They want blood, hurt the crown and the Empire. They come for revenge, you know?"

Daryl stopped chewing his apple and cautiously took a seat as well. "Who?"

Stretford shrugged. "From what I've heard it's P.B. and some of his Lieutenants. They joined forces with parts of the Kingdom and insurgents from the east."

Something cold and menacing crawled down Daryl's back like a horde of wet spiders. The thought of Mister Blake plotting against the Emperor, Siddiq and all the soldiers, the whole new world, made him sick to be bones. 

He remembered the last time he had been with the insurgent's soldiers, at the victory festivities in Alexandria. He remembered the hollers of 'No Mercy', the joy and pride in the men's voices after killing an entire outpost of people cowardly in their sleep, some even after they wanted to surrender.  

He remembered the Empire's flags waving in the wind the first day he had come to the capital. The flowers and the fireworks for the fallen. He didn't want Siddiq to be one of them. Or any other citizen of the new world.

But he could imagine that the Governor would want nothing more. And all of sudden the idea of staying as far away from the Sanctuary as possible seemed to be traitorous and wrong.

"The odd thing is that our sovereign didn't join the mission. He's always at the forefront if things get nasty." Stretford played with the handle of his basket, giving Daryl a sideglance.  "So, it can't be that bad, right? What does the palatial gossip factory say? Is His Highness concerned?"

"Mh." Daryl shook his head, staring down at his half-eaten apple and the bite marks he had created. The memories of a night on the fountain yard's balcony with tears and stars and a man's quiet words made his stomach clench. Maybe Negan was very concerned. Maybe Daryl was the worst chamberlain in the whole Empire.

"Hm." Stretford pursed his lips. "Well, I guess then the situation is under control. He wouldn't send his Keshmesh out if he was truly worried." He smirked, nudging Daryl's arm before he got up and dramatically stretched his back as if he was a hundred years old. "Will you walk back with me to the bazaar? The elderlies sewing cooperative will visit town today and they love my peaches!"

\----

It was quiet in the fountain yard when Daryl returned, the delicate jewelry adorning his forehead jingling softly as he passed the big golden birdcage. The blue parrot saw him and cocked its head but didn't make a comment. The women seemed to be all out, maybe at the auditorium or for dance training. The only one around, sitting cross-legged by the fish pond, was Jesus. He didn't look up, just threw some tiny pieces of fish food into the water.

"Where have you been?" He didn't sound as cheerful as he usually did, but gloomy somehow. "Everyone was looking for you."  

Daryl offered a half shrug, sensing the man's repelling attitude. "Jus' outside."

Jesus nodded, flicking another piece of food near one of the colorful fishes. "You missed training. And your morning duty." He threw in the last piece he was holding before he looked up, his expression serious. "Negan was worried. He thought you might be sick or something."   

Daryl grimaced and wrapped an arm across his chest, avoiding eye contact. He didn't know what to say. 

"Your job is important. He put faith and trust in you and your loyalty." Jesus rose to his feet. "It is disrespectful to just not appear to work. Imagine how he feels when his closest people skip out on him."

The more the beautiful servant talked, the more Daryl wanted to turn around and leave again. He felt angry. Guilty, too. And most of all treated very unfairly. Paul had seen all the ocean-women, he knew one of them would move to the fountain yard. He knew the Emperor would probably invite her to his private chambers. And he didn't want to explain any of it. "'s his fault." He said it quietly but his anger was thick in his voice. He held his head down as he walked past the pond to get to their room.

Jesus stopped him, holding him by the arm. "How is it his fault?"

Daryl slapped the hand off, grunting. He could feel his throat tightening up and his chin starting to tremble, not knowing why Jesus suddenly wasn't his friend anymore.

"You don't have to work for him. You can ask him for a different job if you don't like what you're doing. But you can't just leave him hanging without a warning." Jesus sighed, softening his voice when he saw tears shimmering in angry blue eyes. "I thought you like him? I thought to serve him makes you happy."

Daryl looked up, smearing his perfect makeup when he wiped his eyes harshly with the back of his hand. But he didn't say anything because all the words buzzing through his head sounded wrong all of sudden.

Jesus knitted his brows, trying to understand what was going on. "What happened? Why did you run away this morning?"

A tear rolled down the side of Daryl's nose and it made him even angrier. He wiped it off and gestured with his forearm towards the women's rooms. "You know he gets a new one!" The second he heard his own voice saying it he felt ashamed and stupid, knowing it had nothing to do with his job and duties. But it made his heart clench anyway and he threw his half-eaten apple against one of the big potted plants, making it rustle in protest, then walked off because he really craved a door he could close behind him.

"A new one?" Jesus squinted, following with big steps, his long tunic flowing behind him. "That's what all this is about? Because he gets a new girl for the harem?" A door was almost shut in his face but he stopped it, pushing it open. "It is a political decision! People expect him to offer a place to a girl from the new community! It ensures peace and loyalty!"

Daryl turned around, facing Paul, his voice sounding as hurt as he felt. "She will be in bed with him." It was all he said and it seemed to be enough because there wasn't a counter-argument. He wiped his eyes once more and went out on the balcony, wanting to be alone.

And his wish was granted. For four quiet minutes... before Jesus followed to join him at the balcony railing. "You see that beautiful building?" He pointed at a big, impressive construction in the southern part of the city. "It's the fire temple. Our late Emperor had it built for his son. For the heir to the throne, to marry a girl and make her the rightful Empress of the new world. It was his dream to see his son start a family, get a son of his own and find a bit of peace and happiness despite all the burdens and obligations coming with his position and status. He wanted him to be able to share all that with a woman, to rule the new world with her." He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, shrugging one shoulder. "But the years went by and Negan didn't marry, even after he ascended the throne. Even after his parents died. He never honored his father's wish."

Daryl remembered the big building. He had seen it's huge silhouette at night under the milky light of the moon. "Why?" He glanced at Jesus, seeing a smile softening his serious expression.

"For a lot of reasons. Or maybe just one." Jesus turned to look at the Imperial Chamberlain his commander had appointed and cupped his cheek. "Between you and me... there is only one person in the whole fountain yard who should feel threatened. And that is me. But I do not... because I want him happy and find a bit of peace?" His smile took on a sad little turn. Just for the split of a second, before he leaned in to kiss Daryl's lips, whispering.  "They don't mean anything. They're a compromise. Make-believe." He touched their foreheads together, closing his eyes. "Not one of them owns his heart and none of them ever will."   

"Are you sad, too?" It was a quiet question but Jesus heard it and pulled back a bit as he answered, brushing a bit of wetness from Daryl's cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"You mean when they end up in bed with him? Yes... sometimes. But not because of them or because I'm jealous." He gave another smile, adjusting the golden headpiece adorning Daryl's forehead. "Will you come to the West Wing with me and clean his private rooms before he comes back from duty?"    

Daryl sniffed his nose, nodding. "Hm."

"Thank you." Jesus held a hand out, invitingly. "Let's pamper him a bit"

\----

It was a quiet walk through the endless maze of hallways, doors, and stairs of the capital's governmental building. Daryl followed the faint jingling noises of Paul's jewelry mixed with the padding of bare feet on luxurious stone and marble floors. For an early afternoon, the palace seemed almost abandoned. A few servants crossed their path but other than that nobody was around. Even the auditorium wasn't occupied. Daryl overlooked the big space as they walked by, liking all the empty chairs and Hershel's podium. The windows were wide open, allowing the warm afternoon sun and a gentle breeze to flood the room. He could see the palatial courtyard behind and stopped, noticing at least two dozen of men working there. They put up benches and a small stage.

"It's for the public trial." Jesus stopped as well and walked up to one of the big windows, leaning onto the shiny marble sill. "Pauline and Frankie."

Daryl followed in silence, staring at the black carpet being rolled out and the Empire's flags getting hoisted up the flagpoles. He didn't know the trial was today and he had almost forgotten about the harem girls and their bare breasts and ugly red lips.

Jesus shook his head, taking a deep breath. "Hope they're enjoying their last meal at the Sanctuary. I'm pretty sure they will be banished before sunrise." He pushed off the windowsill, putting an arm around Daryl's shoulders to walk him back out on the corridor. "Negan is pretty strict when it comes to sexual harassment."

Daryl looked back over his shoulder at the courtyard and the imposing emblem of the Empire, a red eagle on thick black fabric with golden bordure and the words 'Unity is Strength', put up as a background on the stage. Where the Emperor would stand later to pass judgment over two of his closest people. His leader, who had rescued him from the dark prison cell, fed him an apple and let him sleep in his room. Believed him when all the other people in the palace didn't.

"And since it's about you..." Jesus pulled his roommate even closer, kissing his cheek as they walked around a corner towards the West Wing. "... they are totally screwed. And not in a lovely, orgasmic kind of way."

\----

The Emperor's private chambers were spacious and giving them a deep clean took time. At least if one did the job with real commitment, like the imperial chamberlain, who intended to scrub every inch of expensive floor on his knees. He wanted them to shine, just as the windows, the bathroom interior, the furniture, all the boots in the dressing room, and every piece of jewelry on the heavy wooden vanity. He wanted it to be perfect. And after his cleansing job was finished and the big bed had fresh linens and pillowcases, he took another thirty minutes to brew the Emperor's favorite tea, fill the vases with jasmine and black irises, and put out candied pecans, stuffed dates, and a bunch of flawless apples.

"Wow." Jesus looked around, popping a pecan into his mouth. "I can see my reflection." He batted his eyelashes at the pretty guy he saw in the polished wood of his commander's bedroom door. "I look great."

"Hm." Daryl flicked a strand of hair out of his face, agreeing. 

"But you need a little brush-up." Paul smiled at Daryl's slightly smeared makeup and ruffled hair. "Let's go back to the fountain yard. I have a new salwar that is perfect for your butt and to say I'm sorry."

\----

At 9 PM, a while after sunset, Daryl knelt already for the second hour on the thick floor cushion next to the bedroom door in the West Wing's private chambers. Jesus had helped him to take a bath, had oiled his skin, combed and perfumed his hair, braided dark blue beads and a delicate gold chain into it and painted thick lines of gold underneath his eyes and on his lids. The wide flowing pants he wore were see-through and low on his hips, exposing his navel piercing and the dark green and gold of their fabric matched his sheer top that was just long enough to cover the upper part of his chest. 

Goosebumps prickled across his arms and back, his nipples pebbling underneath the thin fabric of his top. It was cool in the big room, even though he had lit almost all the candles and brass lanterns. Their orange glow just gave off the illusion of warmth and light, but that was intentional since the Emperor didn't like to sleep in a warm room.

Daryl shifted on his knees, feeling his muscles starting to ache after such a long time in the same position. His stomach rumbled, yearning for a visit at the canteen. But he didn't want to go. He wanted to wait for his leader's return, even if it would take another two hours. He wanted to serve him, do his evening duty and make amends for his absence in the morning. Show his gratitude for a trial held in public to punish two of the harem girls.

But when finally the door opened at almost ten in the evening and heavy combat boots passed him, all courage left his heavily thumping heart.

The Emperor entered with a cold reservedness that added to the already chill atmosphere of the room. He was in full armor, probably since the late morning and took his boots off by himself even though his chamberlain was available to do the job. He also poured himself a glass of spice tea and went to open one of his balcony doors to let even more of the fresh night air in. 

Daryl glanced up underneath his long bangs, his stomach as tight as a knot. He wasn't acknowledged at all, hadn't been offered a ring to kiss, he wasn't spoken to. Almost as if he was invisible. He wanted to say something but then he didn't dare. And when the Emperor walked past him on the way to the bathroom, the faint cool breeze brushing his skin made his chest hot and his heart pulse in his throat. He was ignored, his service dismissed. It filled him with such a deep embarrassment that he wanted to run out and far away, hide in shame forever. But he didn't run. He didn't even move. He heard water running, he heard a broad leather armband being put down, its metal buckle hitting the sink. He smelled soap. He knew when the heavy leather chest protectors were taken off because he recognized the noise of the laces and buckles, the thud of the armor dropping to the floor. He could tell when the Emperor washed his chest, he could picture him taking one of the big towels to dry off his wet skin.

And when a tall man, clad in not more than a black leather kilt, stepped back out of the bathroom and casually gave a small handsign to clean up after him, Daryl rose so quickly to his feet that he felt dizzy for a second. He didn't question the order. He was just thankful to be allowed to do something and be of use.

He was thankful for the few waterdrops he could wipe off the sink and floor, thankful for the damp towel and the soap scented air. Thankful for the leather armor and armband he could collect off the ground and store in the dressing room where he would clean both later.

He did his job quick and quietly before he went back to kneel on his pillow, desperately hoping for another task.

It didn't come, but after 4 minutes a deep voice, low and distant, cut the silence. 

"Why are you here." 

He glanced up, nervously flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Evenin' duty." His answer sounded insecure and small in the big room and was replied to by a soundless laugh, huffed out like a caustic remark.

"Why weren't you here this morning."

Something hot cut through Daryl's chest, forming a lump in his throat. He shrugged, mumbling a half-hearted answer. "Dunno."

Negan picked up a random bottle from his vanity to look at it, his tone a bit louder, cold and serious.  "Why weren't you here this morning to do your fucking job." He put the flask back down, turning around to face his chamberlain. "Too busy strolling through town?" He shook his head, huffing another laugh when he didn't receive an answer. "You know... I don't want anyone to work for me who doesn't want to do the job." 

"Hm." Daryl dropped his gaze when the Emperor approached him.

"I have no use for unreliable people. So if you wanna leave and work someplace else, we will find something for you." Negan squatted down, making the leather of his kilt squeak. "Say the word and you're out here, cadet." He scrutinized his servant's abashed expression from closest distance, his nose almost making contact with silky bangs. "But you can't just scamper off like a moping schoolgirl, doing whatever you like while others count on you to do your fucking job. That's not acceptable."

Daryl pulled his fingers, giving a faint nod. 

"Do you really think I feel like meeting people and doing paperwork for hours every day? No, I god damn fucking don't. But I pull my shit together and do it the fuck anyway. Because it's my job and people depend on me!" Negan could see pure guilt dripping off his chamberlain's remorseful expression and softened his tone to some extent. "Why did you not want to do your job this morning. Tell me the reason."

Daryl shrugged, picking the skin of his thumb. He knew he was stared at, he could feel it. And even though he didn't really want to speak, a part of him was glad to be asked for his reasons. So he answered after a moment, quietly and with his eyes down. "'cause of the new girl."    

Negan nodded, pursing his lips. "You're pissed because Cyndie will be part of the harem?"

Daryl glanced up for half a second but dropped his gaze again immediately when he met dark eyes. "Hm."

"Why." Negan examined every stir and movement on the young man's face. "Have I ever lied about my women? I told you exactly how it is."

Hearing the truth spoken so blatantly cut in Daryl's guts like a knife, stirring up anger and frustration. Sadness on a whole new level.

"She will be moving in because I offered her a place. If that is reason enough for you to quit your job..." Negan gestured towards the door. "I won't stop you. We will find something that suits you better then." He was prepared for the furious punch to his chest and blocked it off effortlessly, catching both of his chamberlain's wrists mid-air and held them in tight grip. "WHAT, BOY!" He pushed Daryl back, not letting go of his hands. "You think I'm keeping you here as Philip did? Like my personal fucktoy against your will? I won't! Your job has nothing to do with my dick or your gorgeous ass! You wanna work for me, show up on fucking time and do your best! You wanna leave because you disagree on my fucking lifestyle? Get out!"

Daryl felt his eyes well up and his chest almost explode with the anger and distress boiling his insides like a seething volcano. He yelled out a grunt, trying to pull his hands free and when it didn't work, turned to bite the Emperor's wrist, but it didn't even make the man flinch. Instead, he was grabbed and pulled up, off the pillow, and pushed with his back against the wall before he was able to react in any way.

Negan kicked the cushion out of the way, five fingers tightly wrapped around his chamberlain's throat. "I know you're fucking unhappy!" He snarled, pressing Daryl into the wall with force, "I know you want more!" before he loosened his grip a bit, staring into watery blue eyes. "God damn peacock." He shook his head, his features tense and cold. "Me too. But I told you... this is all I can offer." He released his young servant, breaking eye contact as he made a step back, "Take it or fucking leave it. Your choice." and turned around, unfastening the buckle of his kilt. He dropped it on the way to his bed.

Daryl held the front of his neck, his fingers trembling, his heart drumming in his chest. But he didn't cry. He was too perplexed as he stared after his leader. Beautiful, tall and proud... but for the first time kind of vulnerable, too. It had been there just for the split of a second. Like a tiny glimpse of the human underneath all the perfection that was the Emperor of the new world. But he had seen it nonetheless. And it made something in his agitated heart ache. It made him want to take a place in front of the door right next to Jerry, with an ax or crossbow, to fight off everyone who would dare to come close. Harem girls, audience receivers, enemies. The whole world.

It made him want to stay by this man's side forever, faithfully, no ifs no buts.

It made him quietly move the big floor cushion back in its place and kneel down on it, his back straight, his head lowered. Because it was his choice and he wanted everything Negan offered even if it meant that he would sit quietly in the dark to just watch him sleep.

He didn't mind. It gave him the opportunity to calm down and sort his stirred up thoughts. He watched the sheer curtains at the open balcony door move in the gentle night breeze. He noticed a couple of candles and a lantern go out. He listened to Negan's breathing and knew he wasn't asleep. After 30 minutes he considered to say something, apologize or bid good night. But he remained silent.

After another 12, he climbed off his thick floor cushion to slide it over the polished floor, towards the big bed in the middle of the room. All the pent-up tension caused his pulse to quicken and heat flush his face. He held his breath but wasn't stopped. Not when he placed his cushion right in front of a wooden nightstand. Not when he knelt back down on it, silently facing the man in bed. The soft orange light of the last brass lanterns and candles fell on a barely covered body and contemplative face. There wasn't a sign of anger, just tired eyes looking back at him. Slightly disheveled hair, a black ear stud visible in the half dark, but no kohl, jewelry or other adornments. It wasn't necessary. The man in bed looked just as majestic and impeccable without all of it.   

Daryl brushed a strand of hair behind his left ear, huffing a soundless sigh before he moved closer and cautiously rested his head on the edge of the mattress. It was soft and cool beneath his cheek, smelling like fresh laundry and the man he tried to be close to. His stomach clenched, afraid he might have been too bold... but just a moment later all tension melted away when a big hand found its way to his head to play with his hair and the beads woven into it.

"Love your outfit tonight." Negan rolled a dark blue bead between his fingers, then combed his fingers lazily through silky strands. "Gold suits you. Makes your eyes shine."  

Daryl didn't dare to blink or breathe, worried the wonderful words or gentle fingers would leave. But they didn't and after a while he found the courage to speak and ask what he really wanted to know since he had seen the preparations for the public trial in the Sanctuary's courtyard. "Was your day bad?" It was a quiet question, sounding hoarse and shy, but got answered anyway.

"I guess." Negan's fingers stilled for a moment, but then found a very thin, very delicate gold chain braided into longish hair and he traced it with the tip of his index finger. "We all have bad days sometimes." It led him to a slightly cool ear and he traced its shape as well. "But I was happy seeing you here tonight."

Something really joyful fluttered through Daryl's chest, making his heart jump. It gave him the boost of bravery he needed to reach up and touch the big hand playing with his ear. He stroked it for a second and then took a long finger and pulled it closer to his face. He inhaled the scent of a wide palm and closed his eyes in deep gratitude when the hand turned and three knuckles brushed his lips. It was a gentle gesture and he kissed the familiar ring that he could feel against his mouth. "'m sorry." 

The whispered apology let Negan tense for a second, his fingers stilling before he remembered his true measure and took his chamberlain's fingers to pull them up and kiss them as well, returning the gesture. He didn't say 'me too' but placed a second kiss to the inside of a smooth wrist, implying the same meaning. "Come here, cadet." He didn't let go of the hand when he folded his blanket back and pulled his dumbfounded servant up on the mattress, totally enthralled by his clumsiness and obvious confusion. He wrapped his arms loosely around the stiff figure, smirking at the big round eyes staring at him as if he had just dragged a rabbit into a wolf's den.

"You like being in bed with me?"

"Yes." Daryl didn't move. Being in such a big, opulent bed, covered by thick blankets and embraced by strong arms had him paralyzed. He was engulfed by incredible warmth and comfort, the smell of cedar, lime and ambergris, bare skin and a completely new form of intimacy. Of course, he had been in Mister Blake's bed, too, but it had never been like this where he felt like in a safe, warm cavern, far away from the outside world.  

He let out a small puff of breath when his tense fingers made accidental contact with a broad, hairy chest.

"Mhm." Negan watched all the emotions clearly visible on his servant's face and loved each one of them. "What do you like about it."     

Daryl swallowed, feeling a big hand caressing the skin just above his hipbone where his sumptuous pants ended in a golden waistband. "'s warm." He earned a deep chuckle and was able to feel its vibrations all through his own body. It made the soles of his feet tickle. "'can sleep here every night." The offer sounded not very friendly, more like a grumpy little dare, but the Emperor seemed to like it anyway.

"Yeah?" Negan knew it was a genuine proposition and something about it poked his insides in a weird way. "Would you like that?" He shifted a bit, moving his right arm up on the pillows to play with all the silky hair and precious little beads splayed out on it.

"Hm." Daryl nodded. He would have liked that very much and just to prove it and make his answer more urgent he reached out to touch a perfectly cut jaw, running his fingertips over the stubble covering it. Wonderfully rough, with the softest skin underneath. One of his fingers was captured between sharp teeth and then kissed softly. He watched it happen in fascination. "You want analservice?"

"No." Negan nestled his jaw into the gentle touch of his servant's hand. "I want to fuck you." He curled a strand of shiny hair around his finger, smiling faintly. "But I won't. I am tired and want to enjoy a good night of sleep with you by my side."

Daryl listened attentively, stroking the Emperor's cheek with flat hand. "I watch you." He would. All night.

The smile climbed from Negan's lips up to his eyes, making them crinkle at the corner. "You shut your fucking pretty eyes and dream with me." The fact that his order was followed almost instantly made not only his heart clench but also his dick twitch. He leaned in close, tipping a smooth chin up for a kiss. "Say, yes my lord..." 

"Yes my lord." Daryl mumbled his answer inaudibly against very warm lips, his heart drumming frantically in his chest.

Negan rewarded all the devotion displayed towards him with a dark praise and another kiss, lingering a little longer this time. "Good boy... turn around for me." He helped his servant to move and pulled him close, back to chest, trying to ignore the immediate sense of relief and comfort washing through him when their bodies melted perfectly into each other. 

Daryl stared into the half-dark towards the high balcony doors, his mind consumed by radiant delight and wonder as his stomach performed a  somersault. The Emperor was everywhere. Behind him, around him, holding him so tight that he felt weightless, almost as if he was floating. A rough, bearded chin rubbed against his neck, warm breath brushed his skin and all of his backside was covered by the tallest, most solid body he had ever seen or felt. Broad chest, strong thighs, long legs. A barely covered manhood pressing against his butt. He could feel it through his ridiculously thin pants and it made something inside him throb in excitement. 

For a long time there was nothing but silence. Silence of the best kind. Satisfying and peaceful.

An arm was wrapped firmly around his upper chest. Four fingers lazily caressed his bare belly, drawing random patterns, tugging his navel ring every now and then. He could feel how relaxed Negan was and it filled him with pride and happiness. It gave him calmness as well and made him sleepy but the quiet voice, low and serious, that broke the silence reminded him that he didn't want to sleep but stay awake all night to not miss a second.

"You want me to find you a better job?"

He put his hand on the long fingers stroking his stomach and shook his head. Just thinking about working someplace else made him feel sad and ill.

"Why not?" Negan hooked his thumb around a warm index finger.

Daryl's answer was shy and small but none the less truthful. "Wanna work for you."  

Negan closed his eyes, inhaling the powdery scent of soft hair. "Why?" He placed a kiss below a prettily adorned earlobe.

It sent tingles through Daryl's chest. "Wanna help you... 'n stay with you." He didn't receive an answer. Not a spoken one, but long fingers intertwined with his in front of his stomach, squeezing his hand once. Another kiss was pressed to the crook of his neck and a third on his shoulder. 

... and after seven and a half minutes, the mighty Emperor's breathing turned calm and even, indicating that he was asleep.

Daryl didn't know what time it was exactly but he hoped it would still be many hours until sunrise. And he closed his eyes to pleasant images of a beautiful black horse running in the wind... Jesus dancing in all his splendor and grace... apples and peacocks... and a familiar face smiling gently at him. Denise. With two eyes and all the warmth and care they always held for him. He took a deep breath, cautiously tracing the teal gem of a wonderful gold ring with his fingertip, before he followed his new leader into a deep sleep. Because it was his choice and he would have followed him anywhere.

 

 


	22. Thunderstruck

Mellow light and the pleasant smell of fresh morning air, the most comfortable mattress and soft covers, everything right and peaceful. Daryl stretched his left foot and toes, his mind smiling without his lips involved when he slowly came out of a long, restful sleep. He took a deep breath, the hand resting on his bare stomach rising and falling with it. It was the Emperor's bed. And he knew he was alone. He could sense it, but not in an alarming way. He still felt safe and complete. 

He turned his head to the side as he blinked his eyes open, seeing the bright morning sun coming through the balcony doors and with it a gentle breeze that moved the long curtains. He knew he had missed morning duty again, but this time it didn't seem wrong. And he felt vindicated as he noticed the longish paper box on the nightstand, dark blue with a folded slip of paper on top. He was sure it hadn't been there before and he sat up and reached for it, surprised how heavy it was.

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear before he slowly unfolded the note. It had the elegant letter D on the outside and wonderfully written words on the inside. _  
_

_'Thank you, boy. I haven't slept that well in years. -Negan'_

The smile that had been lingering secretly somewhere with his drowsy morning thoughts found its way to pale pink lips, making them crook at the edges. He put the small note down on the blanket and carefully opened the box. There was another folded slip of paper inside, laying on top of a golden placeholder. Slightly curved with a flat base and the letter **_N_** engraved. _  
_

_'I would be honored if you wear it for me. Jesus will help you to put it in place.'_

A faint shade of red spread over Daryl's cheeks and he noticed his heart thumping in excitement when he took the heavy toy out of its velvet-lined box. It was cool and smooth to the touch, looking like a treasure, not an object made for convenience. He lifted it up to sniff it and hold it against his mouth and warm cheek. Loving it instantly.       

For a moment he considered to insert it all by himself, but then he didn't and put it back into the box, along with both of the notes. Then he got up and put the precious gift safely back onto the nightstand before he followed his morning routine in the West Wing's private chambers. 

Cleaning the bathroom, the floors, the dressing room. Making the bed, preparing the study for the Emperor's work later in the day. He refilled nuts and fruit, water and tea. He polished the silver trays and heavy golden jewelry on the vanity. 

...before he claimed the small, dark blue box and all the happy feelings tumbling around in his belly and left to make his way through the endless maze of corridors, stairs, and doors to the Sanctuary's fountain yard. Where he was one of many but still very different.

\----

"The flowers are produced in clusters directly on the trunk and older branches." The teacher with the weird accent pointed her stick at the chart to showcase the part of the cacao tree she was talking about. "This is known as cauliflory."

Ben didn't even try to suppress the hearty yawn that wanted out and stretched his legs out long beneath the table. God how he despised botany class. And he wasn't a fan of Miss Greene either. No matter what she talked about, she always looked like she was angry at the whole world.

"The pod contains 20 to 60 seeds, embedded in a white pulp. They are the main ingredient of chocolate, while the pulp is used to prepare juice, smoothies, jelly, and nata." The young woman explained with rather grim expression and then nodded towards one of her listeners who raised a gnawed-on pencil. "Yes. Jesus."

"The seeds also contain cocoa butter." Paul smiled, leaning back in his chair. "It's not only great to make candy but also serves in many personal care products."

Miss Greene nodded, looking very serious. "Very true. Can you name a few?"

"Oh, you know..." Paul rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, pursing his lips. "All kinds of soaps and lotions." He gave a little shrug with just one shoulder. "Lubricants. I highly recommend it."

A wave of chuckles went through the auditorium when a slight shade of red crawled over Miss Greene's grave features. Just the young man on the seat next to Jesus couldn't find the humor in the situation. He squirmed on his chair, pressing his thighs together when his inner muscles clenched around the deeply embedded golden placeholder in his butt. He couldn't decide whether it felt really awesome or made him crazy, but ever since the beautiful servant had inserted the precious gift between his cheeks, his heart didn't stop fluttering in his chest. He fidgeted again and sighed, thinking of the mountain of pillows and cushions he had been draped over, belly down, all naked, while Paul had done magic things to his butt. With gentle fingers and a big brass tub filled with scented cocoa butter. It had felt so good, up to the point where he had to make noise and turkey the peacock had cocked its head in confusion.

But now, outside of the fountain yard, he didn't want to make noise and wished his wonderful placeholder wouldn't poke and prod inside of him with every small movement because it really made him nervous and yearn for the big bed in the West Wing and the very tall, beautiful man it belonged to.

"Can't stop thinking of your cute butt..." Jesus leaned in to his seat neighbour and whispered close to his ear. "Wish we could go back to my room."

The softly spoken words made Daryl's insides hum and his skin prickle in excitement. "Hm." His muscles throbbed around the solid plug and he sighed once more, leaning his head against Paul's beautiful long hair. He really wished they could go back, too.

\----

"Salam." On the way to the palatial canteen, Jesus led the way with a friendly smile and soft jingling jewelry, fingers wrapped safely around Daryl's hand, while the young chamberlain tugged the seam of his wide flowing pants and walked a bit straddle-legged as he followed through the endless maze of corridors, stairs, and rooms. The guard at the front door gave a nod and made a polite step back when a cloud of powdery scent passed him along with the Sanctuary's prettiest servants.

"Will you attend the training later?" Jesus saluted a group of soldiers as they went across the barracks yard. 

Daryl did as well, in secrecy, and wished there would be a way to let all the soldiers know about the amazing golden placeholder their commander had given to him. "Mh." He shook his head and pointed towards Dr. Stookey's house. "'have my shots later."

"Oh right..." Jesus wiggled a mischievous eyebrow, walking them up to the open canteen doors. "So no training for me either because somebody should hold your hand." He swung their entwined fingers once back and forth and accepted a tray from the lady at the entrance, giving the food on it a curious sniff. "Salam! How- ...uh what's that?"

Olivia pushed her glasses back up her nose, smiling shyly at the two young men. "Fish stew. The new community brought a lot of cod and mussels."

"Ah." The happy smile on Paul's face faltered a little. He knew the smell wasn't familiar. "Wow."

Daryl wrinkled his nose as well and decided at first glance that he would only eat the flatbread and tasty ricecream for dessert and surely not anything silly Cyndie had brought from the ocean.

"It's good." Olivia tried to encourage. "And healthy." At least the second statement was true and she put another piece of bread on each of the men's trays just in case, before she gestured for them to find a free place in the dining area.

The whole room smelled odd and as Daryl followed Paul through the rows of people sitting along the long rugs he could see a lot of cooked fish being moved around the trays with silver forks and very unenthusiastic faces. It made him somewhat happy before his heart almost exploded when he found a very tall man in tight leather armor sitting with one of his lieutenants at the left side of the room near the big wall mosaic pictures. Jerry was standing in a polite distance, looking a little green around the gills.

"Oh look!" Paul found a free spot opposite Simon and sat down gracefully, placing the tray in front of him. "My Lord. I hope you enjoy your meal."

"Hm." Negan sat with one leg up, arm on his knee, pushing a mussel around the sauce with his cutlery. "What the fuck took you so long. Lunchtime is almost over."  

"Did you miss me, Sir?" Paul grinned, taking a bite from his bread. "You seem upset."

"Nah, he just realized what his new pussy will smell like." Simon laughed about his own joke and didn't spill a drop of his drink when his boss shot him a death stare full of annoyance. He emptied it in one big gulp and still laughed as he moved a couple of inches to the right to make room for the Sanctuary's newest chamberlain. "Sit, boy. Give some solace to your commander."

"Shut up." Negan didn't move but enjoyed the subtle cloud of jasmine and sandalwood scenting the fish polluted air when a young man in low hanging pants and bare feet sank down on the ground next to him, the silver tray in his hands clattering dangerously. 

Daryl held his breath and then let it out with a shy glance to the side. "'m Lord." The greeting turned out a little gruff in the overwhelming presence of tight leather and muscular arms so close to his body. He really liked the Emperor.

"Salam." Negan pressed his lips together because he didn't want to smile and rather ate a bit of cod with sauce. "How's it going, cadet?"

Daryl shifted on his ankles, feeling his cheeks heat up when his inner muscles clenched around the embedded plug. "Good."

"Not as good as this morning." Jesus wiggled an eyebrow towards his roommate before he shot a coy smirk towards his commander. "Your gift was splendid, Sir. It was my pleasure to assist." 

Something soft and suggestive flitted through dark eyes, making them sparkle. "I bet it was." Negan gave a nod with his chin and flicked a thick crumb of sangak bread across the rug.

Jesus didn't even try to duck. Instead, he picked it up and ate it with a wide smile, far too flirty for a casual lunch with the Emperor of the new world.  

Daryl watched and after three seconds tapped a veiny forearm adorned with several gold bangles. "You can have mine." It was a quiet offer in rough voice but he meant it nicely and humbly held his flatbread out.

"You wanna share your bread?" Negan didn't lose his relaxed posture, finding his seat neighbor pleasantly charming.

"Hm." Daryl pointed warningly at the stew on his commander's silver tray. "It's fish."

Negan pursed his lips, nodding. "It's healthy and we don't throw food into the fucking trash."

Daryl lifted a shoulder to rub his ear against. "I can eat it."

Negan's eyes held a soft smile as he gave his chamberlain a long look in silence... before he leaned in close to brush his lips against silky hair and the beautiful thin creoles attached to the rim of a warm ear. "You wanna eat all that cod for me so it won't go to waste?"  

For a second Daryl had to close his eyes when damp breath tickled the skin below his ear. "Hm." He wanted that very much.

"Hm." Negan copied the tiny nod, brushing the scruff of his chin along smooth skin. "Will you serve me something better tonight?"

"Yes." Daryl nodded again, warmth crawling up his spine. 

"What will you serve... my favorite dates?"

"Hm." He could see his little polished tray and all the special treats for the Emperor in front of his eyes. He would also serve tea and pecans. "'n almonds." The last suggestion was a shy one that made him glance up for just a brief moment before he cast his eyes down.

"Yeah?" Negan chuckled softly, watching a pretty shade of red decorating his chamberlain's cheeks. He wanted to kiss it but didn't. Instead, he brushed the man's ear with his lips again. "Good boy. Can't wait." He nipped one of the delicate golden earrings with his teeth, hummed in satisfaction and took the bread out of Daryl's hands as he sat back. "Thank you." He gave a nod and bit into it, gesturing for his servant to take the plate with the fish stew.

It made Jesus smile and Simon huff a laugh into his cup. But Daryl just lifted the silver tray carefully to his own place and gave the Emperor a last glance in search for permission before he started to eat. It didn't taste very good but seeing the mighty leader of the new world eating awesome Sanctuary-bread instead of the ugly fish coming from Cyndie was absolutely worth it. 

\----

In the afternoon, the Imperial chamberlain fought with himself and the increasing heat boiling through his lower body after another testosterone shot from Dr. Stookey. He felt restless and odd somehow. Frustrated because he was supposed to read a book in the study instead of training outside with the crossbow. The kneeling posture on his floor cushion was difficult to maintain and he wasn't allowed to fondle himself through his pants even though his shrunken genitals kept twitching.

He shifted on his ankles and exhaled a fretful breath when he turned the page without even knowing what the information on the last one had been, giving the tall man at the desk a glance through longish bangs. He really didn't know why the Emperor couldn't talk to him for a while or eat a pecan.

He tried to focus on his book again, mouthing the words silently along as he read about efficient hydropower utilization even though the only thing he could think about was the solid plug between his buttcheeks. 

After two more pages, there was a knock at the door and a very polite Jerry announced the imperial tailor.

"Yes, come in." Negan didn't look up before he had finished his last sentence.

"Your Highness." The tailor was a rather short man in his 70's, performing a humble curtsy in front of the massive desk. "I am delivering the uniform you ordered. I hope it meets your approval."

"Thanks." Negan pointed his pen at Daryl. "It's for him. Go to my room and help him try it on."

The tailor took another bow, "As you wish, my Lord." and gestured for the young man on the floor to join him. "Please lead the way."

\----

Twenty minutes later, Daryl blinked at his reflection in the Emperor's big vanity mirror. He looked nice. Like a real soldier. It was the exact same uniform that all the others wore at the barracks yard. Black with thin red stripes along the outer side of the trouser legs and the red emblem of the Empire on the back. 

He brushed some hair behind his ear and tilted his head to the left. He was really pretty.

"It sits well on you." The tailor confirmed, nestling with a bit of fabric at his customer's collar. "His Majesty will be delighted."

"Hm." Daryl was sure about it and stepped off the narrow footstool he was supposed to stand on for the fitting. The door to the study was closed but he didn't knock before he opened it, just did it very cautiously, and then paused when he realized that the room was suddenly full of people. The Emperor's generals, some soldiers, guards, advisers, and men he had never seen before. Negan stood behind his desk, listening to somebody's report, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"No, it seems they muster their forces in the Western territory. Your brother sent scouts and they've seen enemy combatants up till Fort Smith."

"Yeah." Mister Ford agreed. "Hostile environment covers an area as big as god damn Texas by now. Motherfuckers. They're after the mines and the hills south of Branson."

Negan nodded, his jaw set. "Are we sure our people are alive?" He saw his servant standing in the doorway and held a hand out, waving him over. 

"Yes." Abraham pointed at a marked spot on the map. "They are here and 10 miles south of the base camp. Silvan is the only one we've lost. We don't know if he's dead or taken prisoner."

"How many do they still hold hostage." Negan blindly put a hand to the small of Daryl's back as he studied the map. "Do we know where their base is at the moment?"

Daryl wasn't sure what the whole conversation was about, but he really wished the Emperor would look at him and his awesome new uniform. He waited a moment, tried to listen to the men's conversation and then tapped the side of Negan's chest. "'m a soldier." It was a quiet statement in slightly gruff tone and didn't get recognized by anyone in the room because the conversation got more serious.

"My Lord, I really think we should send the cavalry." A slender man with blond hair and freckles said, moving his finger on the map from the mountains towards the northern parts of the Empire. "Secure our borders, just in case."

Negan shook his head with a non-amused snort. "You really think I send more people out there? The next fucking person leaving our gates is me." He put a hand on Daryl's shoulder, squeezed it once, and went to get himself a drink from the side table. "Should've led the last mission, 'n we all fucking know it."

"No. I think it's time to change tunes." Simon crossed his arms, looking at everybody around. "Time to put these people back in line and remind them what we are capable of. Enough of all the mollycoddling. We won't wait for them to take out another outpost or come anywhere near the capital. These peasants don't understand the language we-"

He was interrupted when Negan put his glass down with a loud clank and turned around, giving his general an icy stare, even though the tone of voice he used was oddly calm and leveled, directed at his servant. 

"Daryl. Be good and send Jesus down to the barracks. You stay at the fountain yard until evening duty. I'll need to have a word with my general here."

Daryl glanced around the room when everybody looked at him. He didn't know where the tailor had gone and he didn't want to leave because Negan seemed really worried and upset. But he had received a clear order, so he lowered his eyes with a mumbled ''m Lord' and tried to leave the Emperor's private study as quietly as possible. 

\---- 

Jesus threw glowing daggers at the group of bickering ladies gathering around the blue velvet sofa in the fountain yard as he put his combat boots on, pulling the shoelaces with force. "Look at them fighting over him like a bunch of bitches in heat!" He tied one up with an angry move. "His brother is out there with some of our best men. He's probably worried sick and all they can think about is who's next to ride his dick!" He got up as soon as he was finished, grabbed his knife and placed a brief kiss on the top of Daryl's head. "See you later, Mikey." He didn't even try to hide his rage on his way out and answered the snidely 'We heard you, Jesus' coming from Amber with his middle finger in her direction.  

\----

It was a quiet afternoon in the Sanctuary's fountain yard and around 5 o'clock a cool breeze brought the earthy smell of rain through the wide open balcony doors, along with the distant sound of thunder approaching from behind the mountains in the north. 

Daryl glanced outside when a gust of wind moved the long curtains and a few wet droplets hit the left side of his face and the ground he was sitting on. The air smelled heavy and the gloomy atmosphere the weather created matched his mood perfectly well. He had taken off his brand new uniform, still disappointed that nobody had really recognized him wearing it. Especially Negan. But then again, of course, the Emperor had more important things to think about and take care of. He knew it and it bothered him that he couldn't help. That he wasn't allowed, even now with his soldier gear. He was still sent to the fountain yard to sit and wait, mingle with the silly giggling girls.   

He folded first the pants, then the shirt and almost dropped both when he got up from the floor to put it into Paul's dresser. It had three drawers and each one of them was cluttered with beautiful things. Clothes, books, jewelry, gifts he had received, trinkets he had found. All of it was interesting to look at and Daryl liked to go through it all. He moved a coin belt to the left and a weird musical instrument out of the way to fit his uniform into the top drawer, glancing up at the mirror hanging above the dresser. The reflection didn't show just him. It also showed the front part of Paul's room, the open door and the fountain yard behind. A young woman with long dark hair, busy to unpack a big, olive green bag. Daryl paused and stared at her. He hadn't known that Cyndie would move in today but it didn't surprise him either. Not really. 

She looked pretty, he had to admit. But the second she glanced up and realized that he was watching her, she shot him a glare, squinting her brown eyes.

"Who's that." She kept her eyes on Daryl when Amber approached her with another bag. "I thought this is for women only."

"That's just Michael." Amber shrugged, opening the bag to pull some pieces of clothing out, examining them with a hint of jealousy. "Don't worry about him, he's a slave from the insurgents. But he's castrated."

Cyndie shot another look at the man in the next room. "Why would Negan keep him here?"

"Hm." Amber inspected a long black velvet dress, loving the style. "He appointed him to be the chamberlain for the West Wing and needed a place for him to sleep. But he isn't like us."

Daryl listened, his head lowered, his chest boiling with heat and anger. He didn't like that Amber told the new girl all of his secrets. And it wasn't true that Negan kept him at the fountain yard because he needed a place for him to sleep. He was allowed to sleep in the big bed now. He had done so and received a gift. A real uniform, too.  He was different and even got offered a room of his own. 

Maybe he should claim it.

He shut the drawer with force and left the room, passing both of the girls with a grim look in their direction. "Yeah...'m not." It was a gruff remark and saying it felt good and satisfying, making him hold his head a bit higher. He went to the spare room that had once belonged to Frankie and threw the door shut behind him. It had a mirror as well, a big one at the wall right next to the bed. He stared at his reflection, his blue tunic and bare feet. No makeup on his face, no jewelry in his hair. And after two minutes the door flew open again and he strode out, back to Paul's chamber, to pick out his most gorgeous outfit. A relatively new one. A top in jade green with gold rim and collar, shorter than usual, not even reaching his navel. He combined it with a delicate golden chain that he wore around his waist like a belt, and a pair of jade green, wide flowing pants, that rode so low on his hips that the very top of his buttcrack was barely covered. It accentuated the firm globes of his butt and was so thin and see-through that on a closer look and from the right angle the golden base of a very special placeholder was visible. Nestled between his cheeks, engraved with an N.

He gave his own appearance a long look in the mirror, then selected a wide range of beautiful jewelry, golden bangels for his wrists, earrings, a necklace that hung deep down his chest and vanished beneath his cropped top. 

For almost six minutes he brushed his hair and perfumed it the way Jesus always did. On the second try he managed to put his favorite headpiece on, the one the Emperor always complimented him on because it looked so nice on his forehead. Above his left ear he attached three beads to his hair, one in dark blue, one in gold and one in green, because the colors reminded him of goose and chicken and Negan sometimes called him a peacock. 

To finish off his look, he applied makeup, exactly the way Jesus had done so often. Around his eyes, nice and even, thick and daring. In dark blue with a little dab of gold. He blinked his lashes and put the little brush away, loving how it had turned out. He looked pretty and even though his soldier uniform was tucked away in the dresser, this one was in no way inferior. Different but just as important. It marked him as the imperial chamberlain and allowed him to perform the evening duty in the West Wing, to serve the Emperor and make his life a little bit easier. Especially tonight, when he was so sorrow-stricken. Something the silly giggling girls knew nothing about.

He applied a bit of perfume behind the lobes of his ears, touched one of the peacock's heads with one finger to say goodbye and left Paul's little room with wide steps and a confident pace, past the fish pond, the big golden birds cage, and the dark blue velvet sofa, ignoring the resentful, envious looks of the girls.

\----

Lightning flickered as soft as fireflies on the distant horizon, crackling at the edges of the nightly sky, accompanied with just a low rumble of thunder. It was a warning, right before a blindingly bright, violent bolt struck, exploding into the dark. Loud and threatening, making the mighty walls of the Sanctuary quake. 

Negan watched as its white branches crawled across the pitch black unfolding in front of his wide-open balcony doors. The temperatures had dropped noticeably, cooling his rooms and to some extent, his wrought up mind. He enjoyed this display of brute force and energy, blunt and honest. The earthy smell permeating the air, allowing him to feel and savor the land he had conquered.

The world his parents had envisioned and started to build. A better, safer place for everyone. No room for fickle and bullshit. He was raised with the awareness that not everyone would see the need for unison and joint efforts to create a future for humanity and environment. But he just didn't have the patience his parents had with obstinate people. He was tired of trying to teach and convince the few rabble-rousers on the cost of lives. He was tired of losing people. Tired to remind himself of his own old mantra, 'Saving people is hard, but worth it'. 

He was tired.

And closed his eyes almost in relief when he felt the atmosphere of the room change from cool and unpleasant to peaceful and quiet. 

To not alone. 

He stood with his back to the door, but there wasn't a need to turn around to know that his chamberlain had entered. A very subtle scent of jasmine, roses, and sandalwood mixed in with the heady smell the thunderstorm brought along. He could sense the young man moving quietly through the room to light a few lanterns, prepare the bed, pour some wine to go along with a hand-picked selection of pecans, dates, and almonds because the commander of the Sanctuary wasn't in the mood for tea.  

The noise of bare feet on bare floors came closer and the feeling of warm lips touching the goosebumps of his cool upper arm surprised him.

"'s cold." Daryl wasn't sure if he was allowed to make such a statement, but he felt really bad to see the Emperor stand by the open balcony doors, exposed to rain and cold air. As if he wanted to fly away with the storm.

Negan smiled faintly and took a deep breath before he turned around, brushed his nose through silky hair to inhale its scent, "Close the doors then." and went to sit in his leather armchair. He made himself comfortable, one leg stretched out, one elbow propped on the armrest, chin resting on thumb and index fingers as he watched his servant first struggle with the handles of the balcony doors and then balance a full tray through the room. It got placed on the small table next to him and a brass goblet was filled with red wine and offered to him with respectfully cast down eyes. He accepted it with one hand and held the other out. "Sit with me."

Daryl inhaled soundly as he sank down to his knees and slid a couple of inches forward on the cool floor to position himself between long legs. The broad gold ring with the teal gem felt cold when he touched it with his lips but the finger beneath didn't. "'m Lord." His greeting wasn't more than a hoarse mumble but he made up for it by kissing the wonderful ring again and then a third time because he really felt like paying his respect. A knuckle was lifted against his lips, followed by a long middle finger that brushed gently along his cheek, causing him to glance up and meet benignant eyes.   

"You look hot." A soft smile graced Negan's lips as he toyed with a strand of hair while studying the young man's face and all its beautiful details. "Did you dress up for me?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded and straightened his back a bit more to show off his belly ring and the entire outfit he had selected to wear for evening duty. 

"I see." Negan enjoyed the pretty display of subservience, tracing the shape of pale lips with the pad of his thumb. "Where's your new uniform? I liked it."

A glint of surprise tumbled through Daryl's eyes. "Paul's room." He pointed towards the door, happy that the Emperor had mentioned the awesome soldier gear. "In the dresser."  

Negan gave a nod. "Very nice. Always take good care of it." He slid three fingers beneath longish hair and cupped the back of his servant's neck to pull him closer for a rewarding sip from his wine. "Drink."

Daryl took two large gulps and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when the goblet was taken away. "Thank you." It was very tasty and made his belly warm.

"Thank you, for your service." Negan leaned back into his chair, resting the goblet on the armrest. "It was a tough day. Nice to have company now."

Daryl flicked his head to get a wisp of hair out of his face. The movement made the delicate jewelry on his forehead jingle. "I can stay here." It was a quiet offer in rough voice and didn't sound particularly friendly.

But Negan didn't seem to mind. "Yeah? You liked it here last night?" He got a genuine nod as an answer and it brought a smile to his eyes. "Did you like my gift, too?"

"Yes." Daryl lifted his butt a little to point at his new placeholder. He really liked the gift more than anything.

"Hm." Negan rolled the stem of the wine goblet between his fingers, lowering his voice into a whisper. Thick like dark velvet. "Show me." He stretched his left leg out a little more, enjoying the sight when his chamberlain clumsily rose to his feet and then just stood there, obviously unsure of what to do. It made him smile. He reached out to tug the ridiculously thin fabric of low hanging pants. "Take that off for me." 

A bit of heat reddened Daryl's cheeks as he glanced at the mighty Emperor in the half dark, sitting there majestically in his leather armor, beautiful black kohl around his eyes, dark hair slicked back, holding a glass of wine. It all let him feel very shy and humble, but at the same time, it made him want to lie down on his floor cushion, all naked with his legs spread, offering himself for whatever pleasure his commander wanted to use him for. He wouldn't have dared to do that, though. But with a heavily thumping heart, he grasped the broad waistband of his jade-green pants and pulled them down. Not very gracefully and he stumbled once when he tried to step out of the left trouser leg. The small heap of fabric that remained somewhere on the floor after a minute didn't look like much...

...but it was a delight to the most powerful man of the new world. He slowly emptied the rest of his wine, taking his time as he took in the beautiful picture of bashfulness and a stunning male body, before he placed the glass blindly on the side table and held a hand out. "Come here."

It was just one step but Daryl held his breath anyway when his fingers were taken and he was pulled close. And even when he bumped against the bare inside of the Emperor's exposed thigh, his hand wasn't released. The glint in dark eyes made him realize what was expected of him. A very intimate posture. Sitting on his commander's lap. Straddling it, face to face.

For a second he wanted to retreat because the task seemed too much for somebody inferior like him. But the way he was held and gently urged closer let his resistance melt and with stiff legs and an awkward move of his knee he climbed on top of muscular thighs, his own legs getting almost obscenely spread in the process. He didn't know where to look and didn't dare to lower his bare butt. He felt a bit cold and maybe that was the reason why his entire body started to tremble.

"Mh." Negan leaned back into the smooth backrest, stroking his servant's thighs as he studied the emotions on insecure features. "Are you scared?" He got a shake of the head instantly and smirked. "No? Should I kiss you?"

Daryl's eyes darted to the wonderful mouth speaking to him and nodded. He really wanted to be kissed. "Yes."

"Hm." 

A big, gentle hand moved from his trembling thigh up his arm, over his shoulder and vanished underneath his hair. It curled around the back of his neck to pull him close. It made him freeze for a second and give in freely in the next, when there wasn't any hesitation or stalling time. Just warm lips and the taste of red wine. Stubble on his smooth skin. Damp breath and a low moan. A tongue on the search for his own. His neck was released and the hand moved to cup the side of his face and hold him securely in place. He felt like floating and falling at the same time, just followed the lead when the kiss turned deeper and a hand roamed over his body. Along his bare side, around his body to trace his spine, creating goosebumps with magic fingertips. He arched his back and gasped into the kiss when a wide palm cupped one of his buttcheeks and a thumb caressed his crack. It made his heart almost jump out of his chest.

"Ah... there it is." Negan broke the kiss and tilted his head for a new angle, speaking against the corner of a warm mouth. "Love that you wear it for me." He circled the flat, solid base he found between his servant's cheeks and gently pushed it a bit further in, causing a sweet noise of surprise. "Yeah? Does it feel good in there?"

The 'Yes' Daryl wanted to reply came out as a small huff of breath when the plug was moved inside his butt. Back and forth, just a little. He wasn't sure why the Emperor did it, but it felt very good. It made his belly hot and his shrunken penis swell a bit. He wanted to touch it or rub it against a pillow, but then he just clawed his fingers into the leather of Negan's chest armor and hid his face against a broad shoulder, whimpering quietly because the wonderful golden placeholder was pulled out almost all the way, very slowly, and then pushed back in expertly, letting its curved end nudge a certain spot that briefly took his breath away.

"Yeah it does, right..." Negan rotated the toy carefully from left to right, giving it just enough pressure to increase the massage he was giving. He loved the way his young servant arched into the touch and stuck his ass out and up, unashamedly searching for more. "Just the right accouterment for that sweet little peacock butt."

"Hh." Daryl moved with the Emperor's hand, trying to create more friction. He felt stretched and filled in the most pleasant way, like his entire body got caressed just by massaging one certain spot. It made his insides coil and his toes curl. Everything got warm and bubbly. He rubbed his bare middle against the leather of Negan's armor, wishing it wouldn't be there because he longed for everything that was underneath. The plea for analservice lingered on his mind and tongue but he didn't say it and instead parted his lips to breathe and whimper against the side of a warm neck that smelled like citrus and musk. He arched his back again, shivering a little because the plug got pulled out and was pressed to his opening for a daring moment, making it throb in anticipation before the warm metal was pushed in again, angled to distinctly slide along his inner walls straight at its target. He squeezed his eyes shut, moaning, as he lifted his pelvis and pushed backwards for more of the wonderful treatment.    

A deep, appreciative groan rumbled through the broad chest he was resting on and he nudged his tongue against stubbly skin, answering with a hiss of breath when the slick placeholder was pulled out once more, but this time didn't come back but left him painfully empty. His entrance clenched in protest and he did the same with his buttcheeks, flexing them in an attempt to cope with the sudden loss.

"Sst." Negan's voice had taken on a husky timbre, clearly affected by his servant's responsiveness. "Don't do that. I want you open." He caressed the incredibly smooth skin of firm buttocks, kneaded them and pulled them apart to massage the slick entrance he craved like nothing else in the world right now. He circled and probed it, enjoying the little grunts Daryl made close to his ear. "Yeah, good boy. Show me that beautiful hole." He pressed two fingers against the throbbing muscle and groaned in absolute delight when it opened for him and he found it generously prepared with half a pound of cocoa butter. The wet cavern melted around his fingers like hot silk, pulling him deeper without any resistance. The little grunts and nudges of tongue against the side of his neck and face turned into mewls and whimpers in a much higher tone, sounding almost despaired. "Is that better than the fucking plug?" He slid his fingers back and forth, pushed them in deeper and gently massaged the nub he was looking for in circular motions, "Look at you being so ready for me. Jesus did well." then spread and rotated them before he pulled them out just to come back with a third. 

Daryl tensed for a second, held his breath and then shoved his butt against the wonderful, almost painful pressure. It felt like much but not enough at the same time. A hot burning sensation spread through his lower body, making him pant and his heart drum in his chest. The Emperor's beautiful, long fingers were inside him. Moving and pushing and stroking. He didn't know why and couldn't locate the source for all the pleasure crawling through him, but it didn't matter anyway because the fingers of the other hand wrapped almost aggressively into his hair and pulled him up for a kiss, wet, possessive and open-mouthed, making him forget every coherent thought.

"Fucking gorgeous boy. Look at me." Negan gave wet lips a slow lick before he teasingly bit down on them and pulled the young man up, urging him into an upright position. "Yeah, show me what I do to you." There was incomprehension in clouded blue eyes, glowing cheeks, and parted lips. Slightly smeared makeup to surprisingly neatly combed hair, all revealed by the next bolt of lightning that flickered behind the high balcony doors. He loved it and then felt his rock-hard dick twitch when the man on his lap gave him a coy look and pointed at his adorned belly button while fondling his shrunken penis clumsily with three fingers.

"Move." Negan leaned back, gazing at the beauty performing for him with that magnificent mixture of innocence and subtleness that fascinated him and made him fucking angry at the same time just for the sole reason that he wasn't the first who had seen it. That stunned look in blue eyes, a pale stomach rolling with the ably movement of hips, alluring lips parting with sweet huffs of breath whenever he pushed his fingers deeper inside that hot ass. It was perfect and he didn't want to share it ever, not even in retrospect.

A shattered breath pushed out of Daryl's lungs when he swayed his hips once more, back and forth, and the long fingers playing inside him made something in his lower belly itch and tingle. He really tried to move nicely for the Emperor as he was supposed to, tried to present his body in the most favorable way, tried to hold eye contact as his commander preferred. But for the first time in his life as a bedroom servant, he faltered and struggled to keep up his professional demeanor. He felt hot and kind of dizzy, consumed by the things he felt and confused by his body and Negan's actions. He had to close his eyes and make noise. He craved more of all the wonderful touches and more of the man he tried to serve. He wanted to kiss again and beg for analservice. But no words were leaving his mouth just a weird wailing sound when the fingers inside him twisted and stroked him so insistently as if they were trying to elicit something very special and important. He arched his back and tipped his head back as he pressed his butt down with all force, spreading his thighs as much as the limited space of the armchair would allow, before he gave his commander a desperate look and fell forward, curled up against a leather clad chest, searching for help and comfort. And the buckle of a wonderful leather kilt.

Negan chuckled and caught the young man's chin, pulling him into a kiss. Unleashing his tongue to have its way, while he enjoyed clumsy fingers trying to undress him. He knew they wouldn't succeed. But he  recognized what Daryl wanted and he was more than tired of waiting and denying himself what every fiber of his being screamed for. 

He retreated his slick fingers, groaned into the kiss when the sudden loss evoked a sound of true despair and lost all his patience just a second later. Without breaking the kiss he wrapped an arm around his servant's body and got up, making a couple of steps through the half-dark room and growled with the roaring thunder when he positioned his prey on the bed, his hunger raging inside him like a wild animal as he looked down and saw the expression of wonder and lust on flawless features.

He yanked the belt of his kilt open and cursed something not fit for royalty when the man on his bed spread his bent legs and pointed first at the jewelry in his belly button and then at his genitals. 

Negan clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring as he dropped the lower part of his armor carelessly on the ground and brought a knee onto the mattress, claiming the space between open legs. He grabbed his servant by the back of his thighs and urged him to move a bit higher, then lowered down for a taste of pale lips. He licked them, dipped his tongue between with torturous slowness and then propped himself up to study his chamberlain's face. "What do you want, boy..." He traced a damp lower lip with his thumb before he pulled the man's jaw down and gave the gap he had created another lascivious lick. "My dick?" He rolled his hips against the bare ass that was so openly presented to him. "You want me to fuck you? Here, in my bed?" His question got answered by a wet, silky tongue nudging his mouth and a sweet little whimper. "Mhm." He raked five fingers into soft strands of hair, thrusting his hips again. "Say, Yes my Lord." 

"Yes." Daryl nodded with furrowed brows and deep seriousness written all over his face, his heart thumping like a maniac in his chest. "'my Lord."

"Good boy." Negan scraped his teeth over soft lips and smooth skin, nipped a hairless chin and got up to shed his underwear and rest of his armor. He stroked himself a couple of times, his eyes glued to the man splayed out on his bed. Prettier than any treasure his palace had to offer. So enticing in all his unique beauty, unashamedly inviting him with an openly displayed body and widely spread legs, doe eyes, and a ton of sparkling jewelry. It made his blood boil.

With a dark purr, he grabbed Daryl's legs to hold them open and press them down into the mattress as he hovered over that delicious body to feast on all its details. He brushed the tip of his nose along smooth skin and sniffed at the gold-peacock-colored belly ring attached to a beautiful navel, then went deeper with a murmured curse of appreciation to briefly suck the shrunken penis he found. Smooth and pink. He pulled back and gave it a lecherous, broad lick with a glance up to revel in his young servant's reaction. Startled and totally overwhelmed. It made him chuckle as he crawled back up like a tiger sizing its prey. "Love your dick. So fucking pretty." He nudged their noses together, sniffed a glowing cheek and locked eyes as he reached down to insert two fingers where his raging cock begged to be. "Love your ass even more. God damn fucking gorgeous." He stared down as he fingered the warm, greasy hole expertly, fascinated by all the emotions flickering over Daryl's face. "Mhm." He leaned in for a kiss, "Keep your eyes open." and lifted his hips a bit as he replaced his fingers with his dick, slowly pressing against the twitching muscle to breach the opening he yearned for. It was tight and hot, slick like molten cream, enfolding him like a sheath made for his pleasure only. He loved the deep grunt and hoarse panting he caused, the neatly groomed fingernails digging into his upper arms. He took his time to enter fully and closed his eyes in pure bliss, groaning with the first move. It was fucking heaven or his personal hell. A place filled with more sin and pleasure than it could ever be good for a sane man. Surprisingly strong ankles locked around his waist, trying to pull him deeper. It made him growl in rapture and fury, the image of a slave in bed with Philip Blake crossing his mind for a brief second. He wrapped his fingers possessively into long hair, his hips rolling and thrusting in a masterful rhythm. "Wanted to do that since I saw you for the fucking first time..." He spoke into an adorned ear, licking its lobe in-between. "Wanted you to be mine alone." 

Daryl arched his back off the mattress and craned his head back into the soft covers, his mind short from exploding, not able to form a straight thought. He had provided analservice countless times during the past decade but it had never been like this. It was like he had lost control over his body and the fireworks for the fallen popped and tingled inside of him. 

"Yeah... fucking move with me, boy." A drop of sweat ran down Negan's dark hairline as he circled his hips for a new angle and pressed in with emphasis. "Feels so good, right..." He adored the sight of trembling lips every time he nudged a certain spot with his dick. Loved gentle fingers blindly reaching for his face. Loved eyes fluttering shut and ground his teeth when they opened again and displayed nothing but devotion and surrender... before these beautiful features contorted in surprise and total shock. He cursed and buried his face into soft hair and the powdery scent of roses and jasmine when the body beneath him first froze and then bucked and quivered, pulling him along hopelessly into an orgasm he didn't plan so soon or sudden. He dug his fingers into the pale flesh of firm buttocks, bit the smooth crook of a warm neck, grunted in delight, and pressed his dick as deep as possible into that pulsing heat, completely thrilled by the thought of his seed pumping into the most beautiful body... wrapped around him like he was the best and safest place on earth.

\----

A loud rumble of thunder announced the bright crack of lightning flickering across the pitch black night sky. It painted sharp patterns at the walls and Negan turned his head towards the balcony doors, sipping his wine. He hadn't bothered to dress, feeling totally content being covered in a sheen of slowly drying sweat and the young man draped over his legs, limp and sound asleep. 

He glanced down and brushed a strand of hair out of a beautifully adorned forehead. Studied smudgy makeup around tightly closed eyes. Pale lips formed into a slight pout. A heavy head resting trustfully in his bare lap. 

He had to look away after a moment and drink the rest of his wine. 

...but protectively covered his servant's sleeping features with a gentle hand when a knock at the door blended in with another roll of thunder.

"My Lord?" Jerry remained in a respectful distance, keeping his voice low. "Everything is prepared and ready for departure. Sergeant Ford awaits further instructions." 

Negan didn't plan to move or give up his relaxed posture on the bed. He rolled the stem of his wine goblet between thumb and forefinger, blankly staring at the bizarre light show in front of his balcony doors. "Tell him we set out at dawn." 

The guard bent down his head, "My Lord." and attempted to leave the room, door handle already in hand. 

"Jerry." 

"My Lord?"

"Tell Abe I'll only bring my servantry. Women stay put."

Jerry took another bow, "As you wish, Sir." and retreated backwards, the shadow of a smile ghosting over his face as he closed the door.

 

 


	23. Out

 

 

The carts and carriages had been drawn up overnight and most of the soldiers and servantry were astir soon after midnight to get ready for the road.

It was the custom for the Emperor to start a march at sunrise. One of the Sanctuary's older attendants claimed it was to give his Majesty the blessing of the sacred fire. Jesus said it was to let Negan have his sleep out, especially after a long night spent with endless pondering, strong wine, and hot sex. But Daryl respectfully disagreed. He thought it surely was because his new leader wasn't a coward. He didn't play dirty tricks like lieutenant Grimes and the Governor. There wasn't a reason for him to sneak out at night with a small convoy to creep up on the enemy and attack under the cover of darkness. The Emperor was too proud to steal a victory. The new world was his after all and he wouldn't move in it on tip-toes. That's why he went to war exactly the way he did everything else: Loud and bold, leading his troops at the forefront in bright daylight. Clearly marked as their commander in his black war paint and daringly short leather uniform, the golden details on it flashing in the light of the rising sun like a signal beam.  

Daryl had lost sight of him, though. He was supposed to travel with the other servants and workers in the middle of this gigantic train of men where they were protected by the cavalry in the front and the foot-men behind. 

At daybreak, right before departure, he had found his small grey horse groomed and ready and he was a little disappointed that he hadn't been allowed to wear his soldier uniform. But he folded it up and stuffed it into his satchel when no one was looking before he packed his favorite jewelry, a hand-mirror and combs, and his eye-paint with its brushes. Clothing wasn't necessary, because an entire trunk had been filled with several of his outfits and a floor cushion, stashed into one of the horse carts. Not any cart. It was the imperial one, with Negan's tent and personal belongings.

Daryl liked that, hoping it meant that he would be allowed to spend the nights with his commander. 

After two hours into the journey he shifted on the back of his horse when the golden plug in his butt started to make the position a bit uncomfortable.  He looked back over his shoulder, still in awe that this convoy stretched more than a mile both ways. And this was just a fracture of the Empire's army. 

The rain had stopped but the soggy, argilliferous ground slowed the band of people, carriages, and horses down noticeably. Several carts got stuck in the mud, just as one horse that had to be pulled out by five men. Still, Daryl enjoyed the journey so much. Especially the landscape with all its different sceneries. Hills and trees, a beautiful lake, a small village with red wooden houses he had never seen before. They encountered some people as well and everyone greeted them, waved and was truly happy. A man on a donkey joined them for a while to pass out free apples and bread among the soldiers. 

Around noon they stopped near a river to give the horses a little rest and the soldiers the chance to scrape the mud off their boots. Jesus came to mingle with the servants and snag some dried fruits from the store-wagon and even though he looked fairly unfamiliar without all his usual splendor, he still nuzzled Daryl's ear to tell him how glad he was that he had joined the troops for this particular campaign.

The second half of the day turned out to be far more debilitating. It started raining again and they came closer to hostile environment, forcing the scouts to expand their radius. There were 12 men with ankle injuries due to the slippery ground and one horse had to be put down after breaking a leg. Daryl watched when it happened, quietly from the back of his own horse. It was the Emperor himself who did it, very calm with a faint smile crooking the corner of his mouth as he wished the animal a last farewell and thanked it for the service.

In the later afternoon, the Emperor was seen more frequently among the rest of the troops as he patrolled back and forth to dispatch instructions and take care of some problems. A broken axle, issuing water, boosting the morale when the rain intensified. He even rode up to his chamberlain once in the most casual manner.

"Salam."

Daryl meant to say 'Salam' back, but then didn't and just smiled to some extent when a fantastic wet warrior boot and Lucille's black fur briefly bumped into his horse's side. 

Negan reached a hand out to brush a strand of dripping hair out of his servant's face, noticing all the smeared makeup. "Are you taking good care of Max?" He loved it. Especially the blue-ish drop of water running down a beautiful pale cheek.

"Hm." Daryl nodded and instantly patted a tuft of grey mane. He really did.

"Yes, you do. You're both doing a great job back here." Negan leaned down to tuck some wet hair behind Daryl's ear before he pinched the man's chin, "Keep up the good work. Proud of you." and dug his heels into his mare's sides to move her into a canter, leaving back to the front of his troops.    

Daryl craned his neck to look after him but all he could see was the big storage cart right in front of him and the two foot-soldiers making sure that its wheels wouldn't get stuck in the mud.

He really liked the Emperor very much, and this trip.

\---- 

It was long dark when they set up camp in the Western territory near Fort Smith. Daryl tried to help as best as he could but he was exhausted and even carrying some small barrels of water seemed to be too much. He was led to the Emperor's tent a few minutes after midnight. It smelled familiar of citrus and sandalwood and was furnished with a small table, washing basin, a clothing rack with some tunics, and a real bed. It wasn't comparable to the bed at the West Wing but looked comfy. In front of it lay his floor cushion. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to sleep on it or just wait on his knees until his commander arrived, and in the end, did a mixture of both because the big pillow was so soft and inviting after a long day on horseback.

Negan was enthralled when he entered his makeshift bedroom almost one hour later and found his young, faithful servant sound asleep, his lips slightly parted, his hair a wild mess, his eye makeup smeared hopelessly. And even though his fine harem outfit was stained with mud, he still exuded that wonderful powdery scent of roses and jasmine.

He enjoyed the sight for a moment then poured himself a glass of tea before he took his boots off, shed his uniform and gave himself a quick wash over the brass bowl some of the other attendants had prepared for him. He rubbed the paint off his face and put his black tunic on, his aching body craving nothing more than a few hours of good sleep.

He took a bite out of an apple and crouched down in front of the thick floor cushion, tilting his head to the right as he combed three fingers through his servant's still damp hair.    

Daryl stirred and took a deep breath as he blinked his eyes open, mumbling something about tea and pecans when he tried to sit up, obviously confused by his environment.

"No, stay." Negan tucked some hair behind the man's ear. "Sleep some more. You serve me in the morning." Blue eyes looked at him for a moment, too tired to focus before they fell shut again.

"Hh."

Negan smiled, tracing a warm ear with the tips of his fingers. "Say, Yes my Lord." His order wasn't followed but he got a very subtle nod as an answer and pale lips moved for a second as if they meant to speak. He adored it all and covered his chamberlain's slack body with a blanket before he went to bed, enjoying how the comforting scent of jasmine shoved all the heavy thoughts from his mind and allowed him to truly relax for a while.

\----

The morning at camp was busy. Tents were taken down, carts were loaded, things packed up. Some attendants passed out tea and food, while others tended to the horses.

Daryl felt a little odd. He was still tired and his back and thighs hurt really bad as if he had spent days with secret training. Still, he did his very best to perform his morning duty. He served breakfast, helped his commander to put on his armor, applied the beautiful kohl around his eyes and found the missing black ear-studs next to the brass bowl that served as a makeshift sink. He put them personally into the Emperor's earlobes and was smiled at the whole time. It made his belly warm and his heart flutter.

The whole army was fed, packed up and back on the road before the sun had fully risen. The weather was better, the downpour had stopped and the ground started to dry, but the early morning chill quickly changed into an unpleasant humid warmth, and by noon, even Daryl's adorned forehead showed a very light sheen of sweat. 

"Can you say hawij?" Jesus had joined the group of workers and servants in the middle of the convoy because his butt hurt from all the riding and time until next break was still too long. He lay in one of the storage carts, his head propped up on a box of pears, his legs stretched out and crossed by the ankles as he nibbled a carrot. 

"Mh." Daryl shook his head, just as the last three times because he really couldn't say any of those difficult Persian words. But he hoped Paul would stay anyway because all the riding was much more fun with the beautiful servant by his side.

"Hm..." Jesus squinted one eye as he thought of another term to teach his friend. "Can you say krh kakayv? It means cocoa butter." He wiggled an eyebrow with a mischievous smirk.

"No." Daryl chuckled... and then quickly straightened his sluggish posture on the back of his horse when suddenly a very tall man appeared right next to him, high up on a majestic black mare.

"Can you say gir fucking kardan?" Negan held the reins in one hand, slowing Lucille down with a brief clamp of his thighs. "It means get your fucking ass back in line or you march with the infantry for the next couple of days!"

Paul sat up and cleared his throat, hiding the carrot behind his back. "Sir. I thought you are out with the scouts."

"And I thought you stay combat-ready at all times, especially in your commander's absence!"

"Yes, Sir. You're right, I'm sorry." He cast his eyes down for a humble second or truly felt remorse and then jumped gracefully off the moving chariot to jog back to the cavalry and his comrades.

Daryl looked after him, feeling bad that he had participated. 

Negan kept the firm tone of voice when he addressed his chamberlain. "Are you combat-ready at all times, cadet?"

Daryl gave a nod but then changed his mind and shook his head because he really wasn't combat-ready at all. "'have no weapon."

"Hm." Negan pursed his lips, overlooking his troops from the back of his horse. "You don't need a weapon. You need your eyes and ears. Be attentive, on your fucking guard." He pointed at the 750 men strong infantry behind them. "Should we be under attack you stay right here. Your companions have your back. They're trained to protect my servantry."

Daryl squinted his eyes at the word 'servantry'. He was a soldier just like the others. His uniform was right there in his satchel. 

"What." Negan noticed the grim expression. "You disagree with my way of warfare, boy?"

Daryl shrugged with one shoulder, mumbling a shy reply because he didn't want to be rude. "No."

Negan sighed, pulling a knife out of his belt to hand it over. "Here. Keep this."

Daryl fumbled with the reins as he glanced up in surprise, not sure which hand to use to accept the gift. It was a big knife and heavy too. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Negan suppressed a smirk and watched how the weapon was shoved into an elaborately embroidered shoulderbag where it was in good company with a hand mirror and three makeup brushes. "We will stop for a break in an hour. Go see the ordnanceman then and ask him for a belt." He got a very eager nod as an answer and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his chamberlain's adorned ear. "Say, yes my Lord."

"Yes, m' Lord." Daryl pulled a shoulder up and almost lost his balance on the horse when the mighty Emperor leaned down to whisper into his ear, so close he could feel rough facial hair and warm breath against his skin. 

"You look fucking beautiful out here." Just for the split of a second Negan closed his eyes, enjoying the familiar powdery scent he loved so much. "Thanks for joining me." He inhaled deeply, gritted his teeth with a suppressed curse and sat back up again, digging his heels into Lucille's sides to make her move. He really should stay at the front with his cavalry.

\---- 

On the second night, the Empire's army set up camp behind the hills of Branson. It was a peaceful open space, no trees around, but grassland as far as the eye could see and a narrow river snaking its way through the fertile plains. 

Several dozen workers had spent their evening washing clothes and cleaning gear and boots by the riverbank until it was too dark to see, while the grooms had tended to the horses. A row of fires cut through the nightly camp and it smelled like cooked rabbit and dill rice. Daryl had taken a quick bath in the river with Paul who hadn't found the low water temperatures very favorable but still could bring up enough enthusiasm to help with the cleaning and maintenance of the Imperial chamberlain's new placeholder.

The later evening Daryl spent in the Emperor's tent. He prepared the wash basin, the tunic Negan would wear at night, the bed, and a silver tray with tea, pecans, and dates. He also brushed his hair for a long time because it looked kind of tousled lately and then polished the wonderful big knife he had received. Several times he slid it in and out of the new weapon belt, pretending to fight off the enemy.

Then it was already past midnight but the Emperor still hadn't come back. Daryl yawned for the seventh time in five minutes, rubbed his tired eyes and sniffed his nose once as he pushed the heavy canvas aside, surprised when he found the tent's entrance unguarded. The night was clear and the air smelled really nice as if it was freshly washed. He could see the lit torches in front of the other tents and in a bit of a distance, the booming sound of male laughter could be heard, along with some drums. It almost sounded like a celebration.

He flicked his head to get a stray strand of hair out of his eyes and hesitantly made his way through the campsite, not sure if he was allowed to. Nobody stopped him though and the ground beneath his bare feet felt really good, like cool, silky dust. Some soldiers sitting in front of their tents greeted him, a man whose name he forgot patted his shoulder on the way by and the workers who had been busy to clean all the gear earlier hollered a loud 'Salam, Michael!' when he passed their campfire where they enjoyed some well-deserved wine and supper. 

Most of the army, including the higher ranking people and the Emperor himself, gathered in the middle of the camp around a torch-lit area that served as a make-shift dance ground. Jesus performed on it, wearing his hair open to a bare chest and red, floor-length skirt that rode daringly low on his hips. His eyes were accentuated by artful applications of kohl, rings of gold and emerald adorned his slender fingers, and a coiled snake made of filigree leather was wrapped around his bare upper arm. The dance he presented was one he had choreographed himself, especially for his commander's delight. He dropped a few wicked smirks and sensual hip rolls here and there, every time the rehearsed dance steps brought him closer to the only man in leather armor.

Instead of being seated on his rightful throne, Negan slouched on a stack of wooden crates that had been used to transport dishes for supper. Casually, one leg stretched out to full length, an elbow propped on one of the crates as he swirled the fresh elderberry wine in his brass goblet. He was tired but sincerely enjoyed the show and the fact that his soldiers didn't seem to miss the female entertainment he usually provided on longer campaigns. He smirked when Paul flashed him a seductive look and then turned his attention to the young man shyly approaching him from the left. 

Daryl looked stunning as always. Freshly bathed and dressed in fine fabrics. A carefully polished, slightly big combat knife attached to the leather belt around his hips. A bit of paint around his eyes, and just a couple of jewelry pieces to adorn his neck and ears besides the golden ring attached to his belly button. He didn't wear any accessories in his hair but the longish strands that normally covered his ears were pulled back and held in place by a loose knot at the back of his head.

Negan leaned back, giving his servant an appreciative once-over. "Salam. Did you come to bid goodnight?" 

"Hm." Daryl wasn't quite sure if that was true, but he nodded anyway, one curious eye on the dancefloor when Jesus bent gracefully backwards, making the tips of his long hair almost touch the ground.

"Ah, come on!" Simon raised his heavy wine goblet. "Night's still young! Give the boy a drink and let him stay a while!"

Daryl pulled one shoulder up and grasped the other tightly with his hand, watching as somebody placed a small pillow on the bare ground next to the Emperor while a soldier from the infantry handed him a glass of dark red wine.

Negan snorted with a shake of the head, gesturing at the cushion. 

There wasn't any other form of invitation, so after brief consideration, Daryl perched at the foot of the crates and glanced up at his commander before he cautiously sipped his drink. It tasted awesome, even though it made him cough a little. He liked the campfire. The music and Paul's dance were so exciting in the dark with all the little glowing sparks wafting through the air with the fresh night breeze. It smelled like outside, alcohol, and roasted meat. Horses and men. There was laughter everywhere and conversations in deep voices. All the soldiers seemed happy and relaxed, a couple of them wrestled on the ground with big grins on their faces, another two kissed near the pavilion where one could get fresh tea or water. He didn't know where to look first and was so mesmerized by it all that he didn't even notice how fast he had emptied his generously filled wine goblet. He peered a bit cross-eyed into the empty glass, licked the last drops off its rim and then held it up for the Emperor to see. "'m Lord."

Negan arched an eyebrow with a glance down at his servant. "My Lord what." His nose almost made contact with the goblet when Daryl lifted it another inch higher.

"Juice."

"Juice my ass. It's the strongest wine we produce." He chuckled, pouring a bit of his own drink into his chamberlain's glass. "Slow down."

"Hm." Daryl nodded with glowing cheeks and held firm eye contact over the brim of his goblet when he took a hearty gulp and then another.

"Yeah right." Negan sighed, ignoring Simon's booming laughter as he took the glass out of Daryl's hands, claiming it back. "Hands on your knees, watch Jesus."

Daryl looked from left to right when everyone around him seemed to be highly amused and then tried his best to do as told and watch the dance performance unfolding right in front of his nose. It was difficult, though. Paul's swaying motions, all the spins, and jumps made him kind of dizzy. And really thirsty. He glanced to his right but Negan talked to one of his generals, giving him no attention. 

He took a deep breath, hiccupped twice and tipped his head back to look at the stars high up in the pitch black sky. Peacock belonged to him.

"Oh yeah?" Negan gave his right-hand man an irritated look. "Or the only fucking difference between her being hungry and her being horny is where she sticks the fucking zucchini!" He shook his head and held the goblet out for a refill because late night conversations about particular members of his harem always got him in the mood for more wine. His wish was granted and he indulged in the sweet oblivion of the Empire's best alcohol, glancing sideways at the young man to his left who gazed with droopy lids up into the nightly sky. His hair bound back to reveal prettily blushed cheeks, his lips slightly parted to soundlessly mumble incoherent nothings. He wanted to throw him over his shoulder and carry him back to the privacy of his tent where nobody else would be able to lay eyes on all this beauty.

"Sst." He let his arm drop, tapping the brim of his brass goblet with his fingernail, delighted when his little subtle siren call was successful and a pretty face turned to look at him. He offered a faint smile, tracing the goblet rim teasingly with his fingertip before he dipped it into the red fluid and spread the finger out. The lovelorn eyes gazing at him poked something beneath his chest armor. The way his young servant stuck his silky pink tongue out to lap the wetness off his finger made his dick twitch. 

Daryl blinked his eyes once very slowly, keeping his lips in contact with warm skin. The taste of wine and something vaguely salty spread on his tongue, making his drowsy head all warm. He glanced up, his hands obediently on his knees, and licked the finger again, then kissed the ring on it, licked the gap between two other fingers and brushed his mouth over the fine dark hair sprinkled over the back of a big hand. The tip of his nose made contact with a solid gold bangle adorning a veiny wrist. He brought his tongue out again, tasting the fleshy part of a strong thumb. He sucked it, nibbled it and then shifted on his butt when his lips were traced gently before they got parted and a finger entered his mouth. He huffed a breath around it and closed his eyes as he started to suck. It wiggled once playfully inside his mouth and then pushed deeper, almost making him gag a little. He loved it, it made his lower belly hot and tingly. It made him press his thighs together. He wanted to squeeze his genitals. He wanted to touch the Emperor's penis and have it in his mouth. He wanted analfuck so badly. 

Negan's breathing grew heavy, watching that wicked little mouth performing perfect oral sex on his hand. Those lips wrapped around his thumb. Blue eyes staring at him pleadingly. It made him forget his surroundings and his nostrils flare. He pulled his thumb back a little but kept it as a barrier between two rows of pearly white teeth as he switched the brass goblet into his other hand and smirked, taking a long gulp of wine, then bent down to share some of the sweet liquid mouth to mouth.

Daryl stiffened for a second not sure what was about to happen but then rose up on his knees, sitting up higher when the side of his face was cupped and the kiss grew deeper, wet and sensual. It caused his stomach to flip and the soles of his bare feet started to tickle. All the voices, music and laughter around him faded into the background. Leather and wine, lips and tongue, rough facial hair against his skin and gentle fingers holding him by the nape of his neck, was all he could focus on and all that mattered. A secure arm snaked around his back to pull him closer and a broad hand found the way onto his ass, kneading it unashamedly. He moaned into the kiss, tried to follow when Negan created a new angle and changed the pace. He felt overwhelmed in the best way possible and allowed his body to grow limp, give in and over to the sudden invasion. He was lifted up a bit higher and deftly fingers massaged his crack through the sheer fabric of his pants, found the solid base of his placeholder and played with it. It made his thighs part and his hips move in hopes for more.

Negan groaned, deeply satisfied by his servant's responsiveness. "Mmh..." He pulled back just half an inch, observing the beautiful, feverish features from closest distance. "Look at you spreading your legs so nicely for me." Clouded eyes tried to focus on his face and a small whimper was huffed against his lips. "Are you showing everyone who your commander is?" He pushed the plug a bit deeper in, smirking at the way Daryl's lips parted in response. "Yeah? You would let me fuck you right here, isn't that true..." He received a small nod before his lips were licked in the most innocent fashion. "Mhm... I know. But I'm not going to do that." He brought his hand out of the danger zone and instead let it caress the small of his servant's back. "You'll go back to my tent and undress."

Daryl blinked at the Emperor's lips, watched them move and licked his own. "You want analservice?" The deep chuckle rumbling through a broad, leather-clad chest fascinated him more than the sudden change in music. He turned his head to look at the dancefloor. Jesus performed a graceful handstand with widely spread legs, having his audience cheer and holler.

"Do I want analservice?" Negan smirked, nuzzling the warm spot behind his servant's ear. "I want you on my bed. On all fours, presenting your gorgeous ass." He let his voice drop into a dark purr. "So I can breed that beautiful hole... mark it as mine." 

Daryl listened to the naughty words spoken in deep, husky voice right next to his ear. Felt strong hands holding him and hot breath against his neck. Small kisses and sharp teeth teasing his skin, while hundreds of tiny orange sparks danced with Jesus through the dark to the rhythm of drums and a strange instrument he had never heard before... somewhere in the new world, far away from the Sanctuary. It was like a really strange dream. An awesome one.

Negan ignored all of his lieutenants hollering lewd comments and the demand for more kisses. He just buried his nose into silky hair and inhaled, "I want us to fuck. No service."

Daryl closed his eyes and nodded, he really wanted that, too.

"Mhm, say Yes, my Lord, I want you to fuck me until I forget my fucking pretty name." He pulled back and smirked, knowing full well he wouldn't get the answer he just demanded but was totally content with the expression of utter confusion in blue eyes and the pale fingers tugging the seam of fluttery pants because the shrunken dick underneath twitched in high expectation.

He wagged his brows and gave a nod with his chin. "Chop, chop, cadet. Do as told. I'll come in a bit."

The cheerful 'To Michael!' coming from Simon and his raised wine glass got enthusiastically answered by at least 20 other men who gladly joined the toast towards the Sanctuary's newest chamberlain as they watched him stumble off towards his commander's tent. With flushed cheeks and a bit straddle-legged, completely stunning in every respect.

Negan sighed with a shake of his head and emptied his drink before he got up from his crates and entered the dusty dance ground to bluntly interrupt his lover's performance, pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss under the happy shouts of approval from his army.

\----

At half-past two in the morning, the last of the torches were about to sputter out and the leader of the new world felt sated and deeply relaxed after a meal, drink, and staggering climax.

Still, he was lying awake, a light cover over his legs, staring at the ceiling of his tent as he absently played with his chamberlain's earring. Gold, smooth and heavy. His gaze fell to the side when Daryl shifted slightly in his sleep, looking like a piece of art in the dim light. Pale skin on thick furs, belly down, one arm up next to his head, the other partly hidden beneath a velvet pillow. Legs still spread, dabs of thick, white liquid between the firm globes of his butt, matching the one on his smooth upper thigh.

Negan turned his head, nudging his nose into silky strands. He closed his eyes, inhaling, then paused and withdrew... paused again and went back, kissing the young man's neck from behind, his shoulder and back. Before he covered them both with a thin blanket and allowed himself to drift off to sleep... feeling another man's presence next to his. Smooth skin, pale and warm. Silky hair, exuding the powdery scent of bergamot and jasmine. Perfect. As if this boy had been created with one purpose only. Bringing the big, mighty Emperor, the most powerful man of the new world joy and comfort. Something like peace, for the first time.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Storycover by the exceptionally talented, beautiful human being, Irony. Who hopefully knows how much I worship him <3
> 
> go lick his feet please ---> http://ironybluegoat.tumblr.com/


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